Since Moons Decay and Suns Decline
by Phoenix Massing
Summary: Slow burn through ME2. Shepard is alive and in one piece, but not necessarily whole. Joker finds himself in a conflict of emotions, including warm and fuzzy feelings for his commanding officer. When they recruit a violent biotic convict, prim and proper Clementine Shepard finds herself drawn to Jack, and begins to question the integrity of Cerberus AND the Alliance. Shoker.
1. I: Crossing the Bar

_Author's Note_: What's this? I have _three _stories going concurrently? Yeah...I'm a little ADD I guess.

There is far too little Shoker fiction out in the world, so I decided to add my take on the matter. I have to admit, my love for Garrus is going to make it difficult to write him in as a friend and not a love interest, but I do _so_ enjoy writing Joker's snide wit. It's a plus to be able to add in some extra oomf with aeronautical jargon. Growing up in a family of pilots sure can expand your vocabulary in the oddest ways.

My take on Shepard will be completely different from my Shakarian fics. Here you'll find a rigid paragon Shep perusing as an extremely talented Vanguard who should actually be an Adept. Liberties will be taken with the storyline, otherwise it just wouldn't be fun ;)

[Insert standard Bioware disclaimer here]

* * *

><p>For though from out our bourne of Time and Place<br>The flood may bear me far,  
>I hope to see my Pilot face to face<br>When I have crossed the bar.

Excerpt from _Crossing the Bar_, Lord Alfred Tennyson

I: Crossing the Bar

The hallway – at least what she thought was a hallway – was illuminated with harsh lights installed in neat, even rows. Everything around her was solid. A white tile floor that squeaked under her boots, white metal walls that stretched dozens of feet in either direction. So bright and sterile, utterly strange. Her forehead rested against the cool surface, cold seeping through her, eating away at the ache in her temples. The air was recycled; she could taste the tang of carbon on her tongue with each breath - breath she shouldn't be able to take.

Death had claimed her, in the dark gravity well over Alchera. She'd spun helplessly away from the ravaged body of the _Normandy_, inertia propelling her into the thin atmosphere. A rogue piece of debris had clipped her breather tubes. Silence pressed against her, punctuated only by her panicked breathing. Her awareness had slowly waned, vision blurring to grey and then black at the edges, until her eyelids became too heavy.

And then there was nothing.

Nothing, until the sensation of cold metal against her back, of limbs almost too heavy to lift. There had been gunshots, and klaxons, and a sharp but lovely voice warning her of attack. The blur of combat, LOKI mechs and a pistol that was unfamiliar in her hand. Explanations of life given to her, hanging a price on her head. "Four billion credits," Miranda Lawson, owner of the sharp but lovely voice, told her. Four billion credits to reanimate a decimated corpse held together by ceramic armor and a frozen atmosphere. Her memories were there, she had been assured, up until the demise of the _Normandy_. She knew nothing of the status of her crew. She was too afraid to ask. Thus, she had crept from her small cell of a room to wander the Cerberus station aimlessly, a raging headache working its way between her eyes. Padding barefoot through endless hallways, wearing plain white fatigues, she felt every bit the ghost she should be. Everything was so pale and so similar, and in a moment of pure shame and pity and utter failure, she had pressed her head up against the wall, trying to gather some semblance of resolve.

"Commander?"

She lifted her head and turned towards the voice, brushing blonde curls from her eyes. A figure, swathed in iridescent light, drew towards her. Ball cap, dark hair laced with red, the smattering of an unkempt beard. There was a hesitance in his step, but it lacked the usual pained shuffle. A soft smile played at her lips that stretching muscles long since used.

"Joker?" she breathed, turning to close the distance between them. His face wasn't contorted in pain, framed by fire and the metal bones of his ship. It was almost jubilant, and she felt tears spring up in her eyes. Petite legs still carried her faster than his. Momentarily forgetting herself, she threw her hands around his neck, leaning into him, balancing on her toes. She felt him hesitate, arms stretched out in front of him, palms up, before he gave in and encircled them around her. The first human touch she felt since waking, and his warmth spread through her like good whiskey.

"Careful, Shepard," he mumbled into her hair. "Still slightly breakable here."

She turned and smiled against his neck, beard tickling her cheek as she let out a soft laugh.

"Sorry, sorry." The sound of her own voice was strange in her ears, all upturned vowels and deliberate enunciation. "You're the first familiar face I've seen here."

His grip tightened slightly and then he stepped back, letting his hands fall to his side. Her embrace had knocked his cap askew, and unkempt hair was poking out from under it in tufts. He tugged it back into place with a look of forced annoyance, but the grin playing on the edge of his lips betrayed his actions.

"Yeah well…" his voice drifted.

"Why are you here?"

His smile turned into a full-blow, shit-eating grin, and in a very un-Joker-esque act, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall. They passed through a set of doors, to another hallway, this one lined on one side by a dark window. She marveled at his unhindered gait as he turned her to face the glass, a spark of energy sliding down her spine at the feel of his hands on her shoulders. He was alive, and he was here, in one piece. Her death had not been in vain; she had gotten him the escape pod in time to save his life.

"They only told me last night," he said, nodding towards the window. Lights flickered on, dancing off the sleek hull of a beautiful black and white frigate. Her mouth popped open, and she swiveled her head to look up at him. The ship's reflection threw flickers of light across them. She noticed the sharp creases that etched themselves across his forehead and around his mouth. His smile, warm and inviting and rare for him, still crinkled the corners of his eyes with real happiness.

"She still needs a name," he continued, hands still resting on her shoulders.

"Great minds think alike?" she asked quietly, turning back to press her hands against the glass.

His answering smile held all the warmth she could have wished for.

* * *

><p><em>Goddamn. Leather chair. Leather chair! <em>

Joker ran his hand along an armrest, reveling in the feeling of buttery calfskin and ergonomic design. The seat still needed a bit of breaking in. He shuffled his rear deeper into the chair and let out a loud sigh of contentment. Twenty-two months of being grounded, his wings clipped and head thoroughly poked and prodded by an Alliance shrink. Seven of those at the bottom of a bottle, before being approached by a tall figure ensconced in a white and black cat-suit which could old be described as _painted_ on. Joker shook his head, trying to piece together the cloudy memory.

Miranda Lawson had settled gracefully on the bar stool next to him, deftly sliding away his double of G&T to the side, ignoring his slurred bark of dismay. She had thrown words like "experimental procedure" and "guaranteed flight time" at him until his head was spinning from more than just the alcohol. The next day he found himself on a charter flight to Omega, of all places, where he was then shoved unceremoniously onto a plain puddle jumper. Several relay jumps later, he found himself at a Cerberus base, where they proceeded to mend his brittle leg bones with materials and techniques even his techy brain couldn't begin to comprehend. His physical therapy included long walks down sterile white hallways, as well as time in a flight simulator, running a program eerily similar to a _Normandy_ class frigate. They had waited until a month ago to drop the real bomb on him:

Clementine Shepard was _alive_, and on the station.

Of course, it took several minutes of coaxing to calm him and help him understand that while Shepard was alive, she was not yet conscious, and in the final stages of being "put back together". Joker shuddered at the thought of his commander lying supine on a lab table, pieces of her body sewn haphazardly back into place. He was long past the need for alcohol as a mental crutch, but that night he had sat in his bed, head in his hands and a bottle of barely drinkable whiskey between his legs. His hangover the next day had been a doozy; they excused him from physical therapy and the flight simulator in order to nurse his sore head.

Seeing her in the hallway, forehead pressed against the wall, had been almost surreal. She was exactly as he had remembered her: curly blond hair - the color of wheat on a sunny day, cascading in soft waves down her back, much longer than it had been in her Alliance days. Petite figure in one piece; she had never grown past 5' 4". The smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose was present, along with her eyes. Those couldn't be faked. She was famous for them the galaxy over. Her face earnest and a little scared, she had stared up at him, entrapping him in her gaze; left iris a stunning steel blue, the right a deep, warm chocolate brown.

Joker always admired her "girl next door" beauty from afar; he left the heavy flirting to Alenko and the ensigns. Shepard and Kaiden had always shared a common bond forged by being biotic, but Alenko's talent paled in comparison to Shepard. She was, above all other things, a biotic powerhouse. Joker, with his now almost unlimited access to purloined Alliance files (courtesy of Cerberus), was well versed on her dossier. At age three she had started showing signs of biotic talent; by age five she was training with some of the best the Alliance had to offer, courtesy of her parents' military involvement. Admiral Hannah Shepard and Captain Whitaker Shepard could be viewed as the quintessential embodiment of humanity. Their only daughter had followed closely in their footsteps, enlisting at the ripe age of eighteen, rising to N7 designation by age twenty-four. The Alliance made a show of the Shepard family, but as Joker dug deeper, he uncovered several startling reports of experiments run on the young Clementine. Withholding of food to see how it affected biotic abilities, multiple EKG's and months at a time spent hooked up to computers measuring energy output. How her parents had allowed it, Joker didn't know, and he wouldn't be caught dead bringing it up to the Commander.

Now, ensconced comfortably in his leather chair, Joker frowned at the controls in front of him. His jubilation at seeing Shepard alive was somewhat short-lived at the mention of the new _Normandy_'s AI. EDI's blue holo was alight to his left, blinking obnoxiously and just plain _in his space._

The soft cadence of footsteps behind him drew his attention back to the task at hand: their first relay jump with the SR-2.

"Joker, this is ace!" Shepard announced, her dulcet British accent ringing through the cockpit. The pilot couldn't help but crack a grin at the mention of his new pride and joy. He swiveled in his chair to face her, faltering a bit at the sight of her in a white and black Cerberus uniform.

_She fills it out well, though_, Joker thought before mentally chiding himself for ogling his commanding officer. But, indeed she did; the black fabric was cut and tailored to her body, outlined sharply with white piping.

"I have to admit," he replied, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Cerberus knows how to build a frigate. I can't wait to make her dance."

"It is improbable that a ship is able to dance, Mr. Moreau," EDI's voice emitted from her holo, flashing in time with the syllables.

"And then there's that," Joker groaned, scrubbing his previously laced hands across his face in indignation.

Shepard gave him a knowing look. A small part of the pilot wanted her to reach out and _touch_ him again. The months spent in an alcohol-induced haze had given way to a myriad of illicit dreams, all of them involving his then-dead commander in compromising positions and outfits. Mixed in with the ever-present replay of her being blown away from the flaming wreckage of the SR-1, sleep was not a place where Joker sought solace. It had, however, given rise to apparent long-quashed feelings of want for Shepard. _Like a goddamn teenager all over again_, Joker had growled to himself. _Painful erections and nowhere to find relief. _He and his hand had been well acquainted over those next few lonely months, more so than usual. He'd chalked it up to frustration at his then-healing legs and lack of flight time.

"Play nice, Joker," Shepard warned with a wink. Her hair was an artfully arranged mess of curls around her face, flowing over her shoulders. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen her wear it down; on the SR-1, she was regulation down to the spit shine of her boots. Her hair had always been tamed by a gratuitous amount of gel, drawn into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Now, it was loose and shimmering in the bridge lights, a golden crown of soft ringlets. He bit back a groan and the longing to reach out and run his fingers through it.

_Jesus fucking Christ, Jeff. She's been back all of three days and you're already losing it._

"I didn't ask for this, Commander," he said, throwing his hands in the air. "It could seriously affect my performance. I could become obsolete, no better than the rest of the chumps flight school turns out. No better than a _shuttle _pilot!" He fell back into his usual tactic of wit and sarcasm, wrapping a cocoon of biting snark around him. The mission came first, and he didn't need inappropriate images of Shepard dancing across his subconscious. The sharp fear of being grounded again before he even got a chance to put the SR-2 through her paces simmered alongside the gut-clenching guilt he felt every time he looked at his commander. He imagined his bubble of personal space expanding to encompass his entire chair. He would have liked to make it the entire bridge, but she was his commanding officer, and he did _like_ her.

"I disagree, Mr. Moreau. My sole purpose is to assist in-"

Joker thumbed the mute button with practiced ease, and turned to give Shepard a dark look from under the bill of his hat. "See what I mean? Ship cancer."

Shepard shook her head and heaved a sigh, making Joker avert his eyes from the way her expanding chest caused her uniform to tighten in a spectacular way.

"How long until the jump?" she asked, laying her hands on the back of his chair to watch him expertly maneuver the haptic interface.

"Just coming up on the relay. Lots of traffic in this cluster, and without that nifty military clearance, we get to wait in line just like everybody else."

There were several perks to being Alliance, one of them being an automatic budge to the front of any relay line. Now, he ran a finger down the far right of the console, bringing the _Normandy_'s thrusters down to 5% for low-speed cruising. He double-checked their lateral drift as they made their relay approach, staying far enough out to avoid an accidental collision with some other idiot who called himself or herself a pilot. The SR-2 was something akin to his wildest wet dream, and he ran another hand along the interfacing almost lovingly, banking them slightly starboard to approach the relay on a parallel. The ship responded, and Joker could feel the slight shift as the inertia dampeners kicked in to fight the sudden change of direction.

Several things needed to happen for the ship to successfully be catapulted through a whitehole. A computer interface was reading the total mass of the ship, as well as calculation down to the thousandth decimal their fuel usage as they taxied towards the relay. Any mishap in numbers and the _Normandy_ would be torn apart at the seams and debris scattered in a linear pattern for millions of light years. He had to time their approach just right, as the relay became increasingly larger, rings spinning and whipping faster as the frigate slipped forward. A tendril of blue eezo shot out to encapsulate them, lighting the cockpit with a subtle glow. With the slightest tugging sensation, Joker _felt_ the ship being flung forward, hurling through space-time at blistering speed. In seconds, the ship decelerated, and his hands flew over the controls with practiced ease.

"Piece of cake," he said to no one in particular, until a warm figure above him leaned her head down, curls sliding onto his hat and around his face. He felt his spine and shoulders tense at the intrusion, simultaneous with the twinge in his groin. _Go away go away go away, I don't deserve your attention and you keep getting __in my space_. He leaned forward slightly, as if to adjust the IES system, when in fact he had entered the relay already stealthed.

"You make it look so easy," she said, and Joker turned the slightest bit to peek at her from the corner of his eye. Her dichromatic gaze was on the nebula in front of them, eyes sparkling in wonder. The scent of her shampoo –lavender and peony, if he had to guess- wrapped around his senses, and Joker felt his vision gray at the edges. He knew she must have been leaning against his chair on her tip-toes, perfectly balanced and completely at ease.

"We'll be at Freedom's Progress within the hour, Commander," he croaked, frowning at the husky pitch of his voice. If Shepard heard it, she said nothing, and simply squeezed his shoulders before walking away. Joker leaned his head against the back of the chair and allowed himself a throaty groan. _This is what the extranet is for, old boy,_ he reminded himself, and tucked the thought away for later.

* * *

><p>Shepard's quarters were pretentious, to say the least. Almost the entire upper section of the frigate was dedicated to the room and adjoining bathroom. Workers had taken to calling it "The Loft", due to its location above the CIC. Now, alone, she stared at the fish tank installed along the port wall, frowning. Besides the matter of the whole "being alive" fiasco, she was still trying to wrap her head around the sudden changes. In her mind, merely days ago she had been flung from the SR-1 out into space, white armor glinting as fires burned off any remaining oxygen in the ship. She'd ordered Kaiden and the rest of her crew into the escape pods before the sentinel's shout of "Joker won't leave the bridge!" spurred her into action. She had found him, a clear emergency breather mask over his face, foggy with his panicked breath. His hands flew over the controls, and mutters of "Come on baby, hold together, we've got this" broke her heart. Between the thought of losing her crew and her pilot and the desolation she knew he would feel at the demise of his ship, she was almost rooted to the spot. Another explosion rocked through the CIC, and she sprinted to the bridge, begging him to abandon ship. She had gotten him to the escape pod with seconds to spare, but the image of Joker's face was forever etched into her corneas; his eyes wide with terror as he reached out to grab her hand as an explosion blew her back. It was the first time she had noticed the color of his eyes, as she spun away from his escape pod, slamming her hand on the release button. They were green, like liquid emerald, the kind that you could sink into. His terrified face had been the first image she saw as Miranda's voice jarred her awake back on the Cerberus station. For a split second, she had tried to reach out to grab his hand, only to realize her muscles weren't quite obeying what her mind was telling them to do.<p>

She'd been surprised and delighted to see him, standing nearly straight, a slight hint of pride at his almost unhindered gait. But then she had noticed the lines that had settled around his mouth and forehead, and the way his eyes looked tired and world-weary. He let his beard grow longer, and it suited him. In her effervescent haze, she recalled their easy friendship back on the SR-1, his whip-crack wit a match to her dry sense of humor. He was in her cockpit once again...alive and in one piece, but not necessarily whole.

She mused on his apprehensive behavior as she pulled off the Cerberus uniform to replace it with the slick black undersuit. It was brand new and slightly stiff as she worked it up her legs and over her arms, bending at the elbows. The fabric was woven with a Teflon-like fiber and _silver_ of all things, treated with eezo. Supposedly it helped give her already phenomenal biotics extra oomf. She managed to pull the suit all the way up and zip it, collar coming halfway up her neck. She had new armor, painted white, and she thanked Miranda for a little piece of familiarity among all the craziness. The inside of the ceramic plating was coated with a conductive metal that allowed the hardsuit to monitor her vitals and biosigns, including temperature and heart rate. The armor was void of any Cerberus branding, and Shepard tallied another silent win on her imaginary chalkboard. The set was incredibly well fitted, and as she adjusted several gaskets, linking all the pieces of the suit together into one cohesive unit, she checked her medigel levels and made sure the readouts were correct. Twin pistols sat lightly at her hips, and her shotgun rested on the small of her back.

The last piece of equipment she had was her amp, placed surgically at the base of her skull. She pulled up her omnitool and ran a scan over the back of her head. She highly doubted the unit would be malfunctioning in any way; it was brand new, and apparently an 'experimental technology' superior to the L5 implants. Cerberus had tweaked her body in so many ways she lost count, but Miranda had promised she would find her abilities improved. Shepard had shaken her head at the suggestion, considering she was, in fact, one of the most powerful biotics on record, limited only by energy and an outdated amp. The readings came back normal, so she donned her gloves and made her way to the elevator and down to the CIC.

Kelly Chambers, her yeoman, chirped a happy greeting as she passed on her way to the bridge. Shepard nodded in acknowledgement, but skirted away from the woman for more familiar waters. Joker's space was claimed by the deep frown he wore, as well as his palpable annoyance at EDI and her "intrusions".

"Suited up and ready to kick some ass?" Joker quipped, not even bothering to look back at her. He was busy nosing the ship into orbit around the garden planet below them, geosynching them with colony's coordinates.

"I must admit, I am feeling a bit restless," she answered, and flexed her gloved fingers. The hardsuit was already sending a crackling buzz of biotic energy across the surface of her skin, and she tamped it down, leaving the sharp smell of ozone in its wake. Joker, sensing the increase of flowing eezo, turned to look at her from under the bill of his hat. Part of her saddened at the sight of his frown, which seemed just about permanently etched on his face. He had been in such a pleasant and playful mood earlier, but now he was just downright dour.

"Uh, what's with the light show, Commander?" he asked cautiously. She couldn't see his eyes under the shadow of his hat, but she knew that they were weary.

"Pent-up energy and a new biotic-enhancing hardsuit. An interesting combo."

"Ah, well, keep it away from me and the controls," he said tightly, turning back to the console. She heaved a sigh and tabbed the comm on her collar, calling for Miranda and Jacob to meet her in the shuttle bay.

"I wish you could take us down there," she said softly, trying to thaw his icy attitude.

"Can't," he replied simply. "This baby is too big to maneuver in atmo."

Shepard merely nodded, giving it up as a lost cause, and turned on her heel towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>Joker sighed as the shuttle descended to the colony below, scratching absentmindedly at his beard. He could blame sexual frustration and sleep deprivation for his sour mood, but he knew it was just his usual manner of pushing people away. Even his commander wasn't immune to his misgivings and snark, and he had tried to ignore the sad sound of her sigh as she left the bridge. He flicked three screens up in front of him: Shepard, Miranda and Jacob's suit cams. Their biosigns displayed neatly underneath each, and he watched as they exited the shuttle into the desolate gloom.<p>

Joker knew he was being unreasonable. But seeing Shepard wrapped in brilliant white armor, biotic energy running unchecked down her arms, his gut twisted with nerves. He'd been reminded of her mortality in the worst way; watching her spin away from the burning wreckage of the SR-1 as his escape pod ejected from the bridge violently, slamming him against the side and shattering four of his ribs. Watching her willingly walk into danger yet again without so much as a concerned look on her face made him inwardly cringe. The twinge of guilt he felt every time he looked at her added fuel to his anger and apprehension. But, as the planet-side team made their way through the colony, Joker felt himself thawing slightly at Shepard returning to active duty.

The mechs never stood a chance, and before they even got within shooting range, Joker watched through Jacob's vid feed as Shepard wrapped herself in a torrent of vibrant biotic energy, unleashing it with a flick of her wrist. The shockwave took out four mechs, and she whooped and punched a fist in the air in glee. He found himself smiling slightly at her celebration, admiring the way the blue energy danced across her blonde ponytail.

The team worked their way forward, breaking into a pod and stumbling upon a quarian, of all things. Joker was musing the encounter would only be complete if Tali showed up, and low and behold, she was there, along with several other quarian marines. He could hear the disappointment in Shepard's voice as Tali told her should wouldn't be joining their team, and he knew when she was back on the ship, she would be difficult to consol.

Joker was the only familiar face on the ship for Shepard, and he mentally kicked himself for being such a tool. Here he was, pouting over misplaced sexual tension and sore joints, when she was still coming to terms with being _alive_. He snorted and reached for his coffee mug, the last dregs of which had long been cold. _Way to go, Jeff. You sure are good at fucking up._ He swirled the dark drink, and snapped his head up as an idea came to him. _Not too much, but not too little,_ he thought, and initiated the autopilot to shuffle to the crew deck.

He was correct in his assumptions of her dour mood when the shuttle settled into the ship's cargo bay. She snapped at Miranda when the woman tried to explain the necessity for Veetor to come aboard, and Shepard had taken the data from the quarian and sent him with Tali, a look of loathing shot directly at the Cerberus operative. The commander had stormed out of the elevator, giving a tight nod to Chambers as she made her way to the bridge, armored boots making a surprising amount of noise for someone so small. The wind that caught up with her as she stopped behind his chair brought the smell of burning metal and ozone, along with the faintest hint of lavender and peony shampoo.

"Set a course for the Citadel, Joker," she said through gritted teeth, arms crossed over her chest. He turned in his chair, a steaming mug of tea in his hand, and smiled up at her.

There were no stern-facing cameras on the bridge, otherwise he would have pulled a still of her expression from the security vid for his viewing pleasure. Her face went from utter frustration to jubilation, full lips parting into a thousand watt smile.

"For me?" she asked, reaching out for the mug. She'd removed her gloves at one point or another between the shuttle and the bridge, and her bare fingers brushed his, sending a current of electricity down his arms straight to his groin. The sharp snap of residual biotics accompanied it, and he forced himself not to jump.

"Who else?" he scoffed, pulling his hat brim low to shield his eyes. "I sure as hell don't drink Earl Grey."

His assurance that the tea was indeed for her melted a considerable amount of tension off her petite frame, and she clutched the mug in both hands, eyelids fluttering as she let the steam roll over her face. She took a tentative sip and sighed in contentment. "There's even lemon in it. You sure can be sweet, Joker," she said, mismatched eyes coming to rest on his. He fought the urge to squirm under her gaze, and instead arranged his face in a semblance of indignation.

"Yeah yeah, he muttered, turning back to the console. "Just don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep."

Her light laugh made his heart flutter slightly, and she shuffled to stand next to his chair rather than behind, leaning against it and sipping her tea. Her proximity, along with those damned biotics, made the hairs on his body stick up. He rubbed a hand over the arm closest to her.

"Thank you," she said, so quiet he almost missed it in the drone of the ship's FTL drives. "You're the only one I know here, Joker. And even if you weren't, I _enjoy_ being around you. So stop trying to push me away, just to reel me in again with your expert tea-making skills."

His hands froze in their dance over the controls, and he turned to stare at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was no sign of mirth on her face, and he internally checked his attitude. "Don't get used to it," he said, but his tone was lighter, and he let a smile play on the edge of his lips. In an uncharacteristically brave move, he nudged her arm with his shoulder, just enough to jostle the mug in her hands. She glowered at him, and he gave her a wink.

"Cheeky bastard," she said, and with one last lingering look, left the bridge. Joker swiveled his chair to watch her go, eyes following her figure as she sauntered away.

_Even in armor, you are sexy as hell, woman_. He shook his head and returned to the job at hand, piloting his ship into the dark vacuum of space.


	2. II: Without Gravity

_Author's note_: If you're here looking for Shoker smut, you'll have to wait a bit. Shepard is a classy lady and likes to take things slow, regardless of how sexually frustrated Joker is. Also, there will be no unplanned pregnancies in this fic. Sorry.

Anything that is NOT in English is translated below at the footnotes. Thank you VeelsMe for reminding me that not everyone reads my stories on their computer where a translation can be Google'd.

[Insert standard Bioware disclaimer here]

* * *

><p>Without gravity<p>

there would be no fallen angels

the something that always

pulls me back to you

love at first sight

it was gravity not the earth

pulling me to you

* * *

><p>II: Without Gravity<p>

"Mr. Moreau."

Joker popped his eyes open, head lolling on his shoulder, a sharp crick in his neck. Blinking several times, the console swam into view before him, glowing orange in the dim bridge lights.

"Mr. Moreau, you've been at the helm for almost thirty-six hours," EDI said. Even the AI was scolding him. Joker scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up.

"I'm fine_, mom_," he said, leaning forward and swiping through different engine read-outs. He had managed four hours of undisturbed slumber at the price of his spine's integrity. They were docked at the Citadel, and had been for almost twenty-four hours, half of which had Shepard tying up loose ends with Anderson and the Council. Joker had a distinct feeling no amount of Earl Grey tea was going to make her feel better after _that_ tedious chore.

"Ah yes," he said to himself, lowering his voice and drawling out syllables thickly. "'The Reapers'." Joker mocked the turian councilor, punctuating his jest with air quotes and a snort of annoyance. He adjusted his hat and leaned forward to survey the state of his coffee mug. Empty, of course. He groaned.

"Perhaps actually sleeping in your rack would help," came a singsong voice from behind him. He gritted his teeth and clutched his cup, packing as much annoyance in his gaze as he could before turning his chair. Yeoman Kelly Chambers tilted her head at him like an over-sized sparrow. Usually Shepard was the victim of her ministrations, but with the commander ashore, Chambers was obviously looking for a new target to torture. _And the winner is..._

"Perhaps you should mind your own business," he mocked, pushing himself up stiffly from his chair and stretching, careful to keep the mouth of his mug parallel to the floor. Frustratingly slow, he shuffled past her, making sure to avoid any contact, and made his way through the CIC to the elevator. Luckily, it was already at the second floor, doors sliding open the instant he palmed the controls. He stepped inside, groaning when Chambers flitted through as the door slid back together.

"It can't be good for your condition to sleep sitting up," she chirped, standing well within his personal bubble. He could feel his pulse rising at the intrusion. Visions of him breaking his mug over her red-haired head danced in front of his eyes, interrupted by the elevator doors sliding open to admit them to the mess hall.

"It can't be good for you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong." Joker could keep up the snark for days if he needed to, but at the moment he was seriously low on caffeine, and needed energy for a long haul. The coffee machine gurgled as he compressed the button, filling the mug with blessedly hot liquid.

"You sure aren't a people person, are you?" She was _still_ hovering behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"What was your first guess?" he said around the lip of his now steaming cup. The brim of his hat was pulled low to hide his eyes. He took a tentative sip, cursing softly as the coffee burnt his tongue.

"I _understand_ your condition makes you nervous around people. And you push them away with humor and snide comments. Physical and emotional distance makes you comfortable. Most likely the only touching you're used to is the medical type, which probably causes you pain." The yeoman settled her elbows on the kitchen island, steepling her fingers together as a resting spot for her chin. "It's textbook, really. I also understand your hesitation to make relationships with people you affiliate as the enemy. But I'm here to be your friend, Jeff." She leaned forward, studying him expectantly.

He snorted into his mug.

"How much does Cerberus pay you to say this crap?" Joker asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his ankles.

"I have a degree in psychology. Also, I've often been described as a 'people person'." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I've read your file. Besides the Vrolick's, I was pleasantly surprised at what I saw."

Joker narrowed his eyes, lowering the mug to glower at her. _Bitch! _His file wasn't private, per se, but the idea of Chambers reading it made his blood pressure skyrocket.

"And _what_ exactly did you see?"

The yeoman's grin engulfed half her face.

"Top of your class in military academy _and _flight school. An impressive service record including an Aerial Achievement Medal, multiple recommendations from several decorated pilots, and a squeaky clean disciplinary chart. You have a father and fifteen-year-old sister back on Tiptree, your mother passed away when you were nineteen, and English is _not_ your first language."

"Joker is fluent in sarcasm," said an accented voice from behind them. Shepard, divulged of her trademark white armor, was wearing jeans and a simple black t-shirt, her hair its usual blonde halo of curls.

"_Et tu, Brute?_" he quipped at her, pulling the brim of his cap down and frowning. Her answering laugh was soft and sweet, making his scowl deepen.

Chambers was looking from Shepard to him and back again like a tennis spectator. Joker resisted the urge to dump his coffee on her head.

"If you two are through with picking on the cripple, I have a job to do."

Chambers and Shepard simply smiled at him. He huffed a sigh and made for the elevator.

Back at the helm, he set his coffee mug down and shuffled in his seat, still seething. He should have figured the nosy yeoman would have "read his file". People like her made his blood boil. They thought a folder of information gave them the right to prod his psyche. The Alliance sure hadn't spared a penny when they threw their very best shrinks at him. _How do you feel, Jeffrey? That's a normal reaction to death, Jeffrey. Survivor's guilt is a real thing, Jeffrey. We're concerned you have your priorities backwards, Jeffrey. _Joker rolled his eyes at the memories and pulled up a screen of IES system stats. Their short run to the Serpent Nebula had barely been enough to test the newly upgraded lithium sinks. The SR-2, being roughly twice the size of the SR-1, required significantly larger amounts of heat storage. He frowned at the readings, noting the starboard aft sink was leaking at a 0.03% rate. Not enough to cause concern, but enough to pile another straw on the camel's back.

"_Snakker du norsk trenger_?"

Shepards footsteps were soft without the usual clomp of armored boots. All casual, she was wearing brown leather boat shoes which looked thoroughly broken in.

"Huh?" he asked gruffly, adjusting the lumbar support of his seat. She was leaning on the back of his chair now, making his sore back tense up.

"_Parli italiano?_"

"No."

"_Tu loquerisne Latine?_"

He sighed and leaned his head against the back of his chair. In truth, listening to her soft voice address him over three different languages was sending warmth through his chest, thawing his annoyance.

"_Sprechen Sie Duetch?_"

_Four languages_? He turned his head the slightest bit to stare at her from the corner of his eye. Her smile was radiant. The black t-shirt draped elegantly over her petite frame, showing a delicious amount of neck and chest. She had a smattering of freckles across her collarbones, and faint white lines of surgery scars spider-webbed across the exposed skin.

"_Parlez-vous francais?_"

His heart leapt. The words poured over him, and his stomach found its way into his throat. Her accent was _flawless_. He hadn't heard his native tongue spoken that well since his mother was alive, and a pang of longing wracked through his body. "_Un tout petit peu_," he replied softly, flicking the IES diagnostic report closed and opening a general maintenance log.

"_Que es-tu?_" she said, tilting her head to the side, the skin between her brows forming a soft v on her forehead. He tried to focus on the screen in front of him. Her tone was friendly, but suggestive, and it nearly unseated him. He decided to ignore her, and instead began to type up his weekly maintenance report, concentrating harder than necessary on the screen. Every part of his body language was screaming _leave_.

She cleared her throat and adjusted her shirt. The scoop neck fell just low enough to let the soft white lace of her bra peek out over the hem. It took every single ounce of self control for Joker to tear his eyes away from her chest. They settled on her face instead, which was pinched in concern.

"Will you get lunch with me?" she asked.

_And there's the curve ball_. Joker let his hands fall to his lap with a soft slap and a groan.

"Why the hell would you want to go to lunch with me, Shepard?" he asked, turning to stare up at her. She looked _nervous_.

"Because you're the only one I trust on this ship."

It came out as a whisper, and Joker was startled to see his commander vulnerable. It was an unfamiliar look for her, and his tongue struggled to catch up with his thought process. He knew it made sense; here she was, surrounded by Cerberus employees on a Cerberus ship, serving with strangers who remade her and asked everything short of lassoing the moon. Now, after having done three rounds with the Council and getting nowhere, she was most likely frustrated with pointless arguments. He inwardly groaned and pushed his cap up, scratching his forehead. His subconscious was screaming _no no no!_, but his libido was screaming _yes yes yes!_

"Fine."

Her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Thank you. I just…I need to be off the ship and feel like a real person for a little bit."

He nodded and pushed himself out of his chair. "Let me go change. I'll meet you up here in ten minutes, ok? EDI, don't you _dare_ touch my ship."

"I cannot 'touch' anything, Mr. Moreau," the AI replied. He waved his hand dismissively towards her holo and shuffled towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>The café had outdoor seating and a splendid view of one of the water reservoirs. There was even a green canvas umbrella above their table. The waitress brought them water with lemon, as well as a glass of white wine for Shepard and gin and tonic for Joker. The pilot had changed out of his Cerberus uniform and into faded jeans, a white tshirt and boat shoes that were almost identical to her own. The tops of his sock-less feed peeked out from beneath the hem of his pants, and the chain of his dog tags was visible, draping over his collarbones and disappearing into his shirt. A small part of her heart hurt at the thought of him still hanging onto his Alliance ties; Cerberus sure didn't require their employees to wear dog tags. She had decided to stay docked at the Citadel for another twelve hours, giving the staff time to stock up on any supplies needed before they shoved off for the Terminus Systems. Somehow, she highly doubted there would be decent coffee or tea on Omega.<p>

Joker was his usual surly self, clutching his tumbler of alcohol with both hands and wiping the condensation off with a thumb. The yeoman had certainly pushed his buttons with her incessant prodding, and he wore the results of her intrusions in the form of a scowl.

"I've decided Kelly is an acquired taste," she said lightly, taking a sip of wine. It was from Earth, and very dry, the way she preferred. Her mouth almost ached as the liquid hit her tongue.

"She's a shrink," Joker replied, swirling a lime around the lip of his glass. "They're all the same."

"I never read your file, Joker. I like to get to know my crew for who they are, not what is written about them on a piece of paper."

She'd been taken aback when he had verbally assaulted her about his Vrolick's back on the SR-1, a defense mechanism she would become familiar with. Had she read his file, she would have known, but instead she chose to try and thaw the pilot's icy demeanor with honesty and trust. Their friendship had been slow to develop, but in time she was able to converse with him sans the fear of an outburst of rage. Two years of downtime hadn't done anything to help the progress they had made, her death opening a chasm between them. Her stomach clenched in guilt, and she watched as his shoulders hunched in on themselves.

"Yeah, well, that makes one person who decided to mind their own business. I'm everyone's favorite charity case."

"Do you think that about me?" she asked. His resulting shrug was non-committal.

"You don't annoy me as much as other people do. And I actually believe you don't focus solely on my 'condition'. You never doubted my skills, even after I told you about my Vrolick's. That's…something, I guess."

His prickly exterior was especially thick today. Shepard made a mental note to talk to Kelly about goading him, and took another sip of wine, swirling it around her tongue.

"_Je les respecte_," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear and leaning her forearms on the table. There had been a softening of his features when she spoke French back on the bridge, and she switched languages effortlessly, trying to provide some comfort without actually touching him. "_Tu es mon meilleur copin_."

"_Vraiment?" _he replied, shaking his head.

"Because you treat me like a _person,_ and not just your commander." She slipped back into English, taking another sip of wine. Her fingers itched to reach out and wrap around his hand. The lack of human contact she had faced the last three days was only exacerbating her mental isolation. Unlike him, she enjoyed being touched, enjoyed feeling of being connected by simple human gestures and camaraderie. He had always been standoffish. She could count on one hand the amount of times they actually had physical contact. Since his exuberant greeting back on the Cerberus station, she had been hoping for a more open friendship, one where he actually let her into his personal bubble.

He didn't answer her immediately, but instead took a sip of his drink and met her eyes, pushing his cap back to scratch his forehead. The emotion on his face was one she couldn't peg. She bit the inside of her lip in frustration.

"How many languages _do_ you speak?" he asked quietly. It took her a second to process his non sequitur, and she sighed softly. Back to square one.

"Norwegian, German, Italian, Latin, French, some Welsh, conversational asari, some batarian, and a few choice words in turian that Garrus taught me back in the day."

He was staring at her, his brows knitted together, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. "Is there anything you _can't _do?"

She thought for a moment, relishing the fact that he was conversing _without_ the gravelly tone of annoyance in his voice. "I can't fly a ship." She took another hurried sip of wine, and felt heat rise in her cheeks. It had been the one thing she had barely passed during test-outs for N training. Every officer had to have basic flying skills in case of emergencies. It had been years since she had flown anything, even a shuttle.

Joker sat back and crossed his arms, a _real_ smile playing on his lips. "Did you just admit that _I_ can do something _you_ can't?"

She pushed her lower lip out in a mock pout, and he laughed, a sound that sent tendrils of heat through her chest. He had a hearty voice, and a warm laugh to match. "Well, I can't be good at _everything_, Joker. And besides, I don't need to worry about flying. That's why I have you, _mon pilote_."

"Yeah well, someone has to be there to save your ass when your missions go sideways." He coughed into his hand, and it sounded distinctly like "_Therum!"_

"Now that's not fair!" she retorted, smacking his arm with the back of her hand. "And I thanked you a thousand times over for pulling us out of that volcano. And besides, it wasn't _that_ big of a deal."

"_Pardon?" _he spat, a grin splitting across his face. He had slipped back into French, much to her pleasant surprise._ "Tu te fous de ma gueule?_"

"_Excusez-moi?_"

"_C'est pue dire_," he grumbled, emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. He was leaning forward, forearms on the table and hands inches from hers. Purposely baiting her, and she was all too glad to play along with him. Seeing him cut loose and smile made her head spin with happiness.

"_Ta guel!_" she exclaimed, with another soft slap to his arm. His sharp bark of laughter mingled with her giggle as they both leaned their heads on the table, shoulders shaking. His hands slid forward, still curled around his glass, but now his knuckles brushed against hers, a whisper of a touch.

"_Tu m'as manqué_," he replied, quieter this time. A soft flush was creeping up his neck, and he was openly staring at her. She sucked a breath in through her teeth, feeling her heart rate spike at the liquid heat of his stare. She tucked another curl behind her ear, and bit her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her mouth and back up to her eyes.

"_Je suis desole. Pardonne-moi?"_

"_Ne fais pas l'idiot, mon Commanduer._"

His gaze was smoldering now, a mixture of respect, frustration and confusion. The wide smile had turned down at the corners, and he slipped a hand under hers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. She felt her breath hitch; he was voluntarily touching her, and _sweetly_, too. There had never been a time where he had actively sought out contact from her, or anyone that she knew of, for that matter. It threw her completely off-guard. Never had she considered him to be anything more than her pilot and friend. Until she had seen him so desperately trying to save his ship, the heart-wrenching sadness and fear in his eyes as she hauled him out of his chair towards the escape pod. He had always been that solid fixture in her life. The one who she could always count on to do his job, and do it well. That kind of trust was unbreakable, and twisted her heart with both admiration and guilt. She was staring at his mouth now, noticing how the lines bracketing his smile were deeper than they had been two years ago. His teeth were even and white, covered by surprisingly full lips. A small part of her was wondering if they tasted like gin, and she felt herself leaning forward even more, heart pounding.

"Jeff?"

An unfamiliar voice shattered her thoughts, and she felt Joker tense and withdraw his hand from hers, letting it fall to the table. She heard him mutter "_shit_", and he leaned back against his chair, once again pulling his cap down low and crossing his arms.

A pretty girl with short red hair, brown eyes and an apron approached their table carrying a tray of food. Their food, Shepard realized, as the girl set her plate of salad down in front of her.

"Bridget," he said, not turning to look at her. Any openness he had been displaying seconds before had been absorbed back into his defensive posture. He looked…uncomfortable.

"Mel told me there was a cute guy out here," the red head was saying, placing Joker's sandwich plate next to his almost empty G&T. "When I peeked out from the kitchen, I realized it was you! Why didn't you tell me you were back?"

"I've been busy with work," he replied, turning to give her a hard look. If she noticed the annoyance in his voice, she ignored it, and smiled down at him.

"Well, that's silly. Are you here much longer? Let's grab a drink. I get done at four!" She had tucked the tray under her arm and was hovering close to Joker, looking expectant.

"We're actually leaving soon," was his gruff reply, and he swallowed the remainder of his drink with flourish.

Her face fell the slightest bit at his tone, and she chewed her lip before turning to Shepard. "Are you one of Jeff's coworkers? I never got to meet any of them when he was here last year, but I heard so many amazing stories."

Shepard inwardly sighed. The waitress obviously didn't recognize her out of her armor. Joker was gaping at the girl, gritting his teeth.

"Bridget, this is my commanding officer. Shepard, this is Bridget. I…she and I have known each other for a while." He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Bridget shifted the food tray to extend a hand to Shepard. At the mention of "commanding officer", the waitress' mouth popped open, and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Holy crap," she said, almost reverently. "You're Commander Shepard! I thought you were dead!" she shot Joker a look of indignation, and he scowled.

"Please," Shepard said lightly, taking the girl's hand and shaking it. "Call me Clementine. It's nice to make your acquaintance."

The commander turned on the British charm, ramping up her accent to its highest level of sophistication. The waitress seemed harmless, but her appearance was awkward and inopportune, to say the least. Shepard and her pilot had been having…a moment, one which she wished had been allowed to continue. Falling back on a trick she had learned in boarding school, she turned towards Joker and smiled sweetly.

"_Mon chou, ça va bien?_"

He quirked an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"_C'est sur, mon cherie. J'ai fem_."

Bridget was looking at both of them in confusion. Shepard cut her out of the conversation by switching languages, letting her know, subtly, that she was no longer welcome at their table and in their space. She was being a bit petty, but the red-haired girl touched a nerve.

"I'll uh, let you two enjoy your food," Bridget said, taking one last look at Joker and frowning.

"It was nice to meet you, Bridget," Shepard said, turning to the girl and putting on her sweetest smile. "Could you tell our waitress that I'd like another glass of _pinot? _And another gin and tonic for Joker. Thank you."

Bridget nodded and left, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Shepard sat up straighter and swiveled her gaze to her pilot.

"You're bad, Shepard," he said, not unkindly. She busied herself with her salad and gave him a wink.

"I can only assume the stories you told her were of your 'heroic deeds'? And nothing that could be considered damning or classified?"

"You really think I would do something like that? Bridget likes to stir the shit. Sure, I may have elaborated once or twice about the battle of the Citadel, but that was only to get in her pants." He scoffed and pulled the toothpick out of his sandwich before taking a bite and groaning softly. "I forgot how good real food is."

"She seems nice enough," Shepard replied, stabbing at a tomato slice with her fork. "How long have you known her?"

"Met her during our leave after we took down Sovereign," he supplied. Their original waitress approached with their drinks, and he thanked her with a nod, taking a sip before continuing. "She's a known tag chaser. Not really my type, but shore leave is shore leave, you know?"

Shepard didn't reply, busying herself with cutting salad greens into more manageable pieces. It shouldn't surprise her that Joker had a shore leave girl; to her knowledge, he was just as serious about regs as she was, and stayed away from everyone on the ship. Even if he didn't have an aversion to all people, she doubted he would have ever crossed the line to fraternize. He had said as much when she vented to him about Kaiden's advances towards her on the SR-1. The pilot had openly laughed at her impressions of Alenko's pick-up lines, and had remarked on the sentinel's apparent disregard for the regulations. Shepard had been surprised with Kaiden as well; he did everything by the book, just as she did. His record was spotless.

"Don't you have a shore leave guy, Commander?"

His question was innocent enough, but she flinched slightly at his use of her title. For the second time in less than an hour, she found herself back at square one with him. _Oh Joker, what am I going to do with you?_

"If you haven't noticed, I've been busy either saving the galaxy or being dead. Not really a lot of time for extracurricular activities."

He grimaced at her response, shoving more sandwich in his mouth.

They finished the rest of their meal in relative silence, Shepard handing the waitress a credit chit and a small tip. She had been the one who heralded Bridget, after all. They made their way back to the ship, Joker to the helm and Shepard to her quarters for a nap and report filing. Peeling out of her jeans and tshirt, she slipped beneath the covers of her bed. Her knuckles still burned where Joker had run a thumb over them, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

><p>Back in his uniform, Joker chugged a bottle of water, chasing the taste of gin from his mouth. They still had about ten hours before they would shove off for the Omega nebula, and with nothing pressing to attend to, he propped his feet up on the flight console and reclined his chair, pulling his hat over his eyes.<p>

Almost immediately, the image of Shepard, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter, came unbidden to his mind. He could picture each freckle in clear detail, along with the nest of waves and curls framing her face. The way her lips had cradled the edge of her wine glass was a sight he wouldn't soon forget.

Maybe he should have taken Bridget up on her offer. They were going to be docked for a while, but when Joker tried to visualize the red head's image in his mind, Shepard swam into view, vibrant and beautiful.

Bridget had been a mediocre distraction at best. He had (literally) stumbled into her again after Shepard's memorial, half a bottle of gin deep at Chora's Den, still in his dress blues. He hadn't seen the girl in over a year, but her eyes had sparkled at the sight of him in uniform, and he wasn't about to turn down the attention. Each encounter they had was brief and casual, always at her apartment, always ending with him slipping out when she fell asleep. He would return to his place, down a few pulls of whatever alcohol he had on hand, and pass out on the couch.

There were a few times Bridget had hinted at wanting more from him, especially since he had been stuck on the Citadel for several months, due to the interrogations and psych evals. Each time he had brushed her off. She was cute, and a firecracker in bed, but besides the physical attraction, she really wasn't for him. She was needy, and almost overtly obsessive over his Vrolick's, always afraid of breaking him, always letting him take her, always submitting to whatever he wanted. There was no spark, just the instinctive motions of lust and need, the gradual build and eventual release. She had a dirty mouth, and knew how to use it, both with words and actions, yet Joker couldn't help but think of how many people she had whispered those words to. She was a little _too_ practiced, a little too easy, and a little too loose.

His departure from the Citadel had been abrupt. With only time to send her a message, he let her know that he was being offered a job, and would let her know the next time he was back on the station. He hadn't even bothered to open her reply, deleting it right away.

His mind wandered further, and he began to compare Shepard to the red head. Where Bridget had been bawdy and outgoing, Shepard had quiet confidence and purposeful speech. She was polished and poised, with a golden aura of honor surrounding her. Shepard had _class_. Her childhood years were spent rubbing elbows with Alliance elite, expensive boarding schools, summers at the country club. She was the unattainable, the girl next door who was more than capable of taking care of herself. There was a certain innocence to her, except when she was on the battlefield. There, she was ruthless and meticulous, the absolute best at what she did.

_No wonder you want her_, Joker thought, lacing his hands together on his stomach. _You want what you can't have. You want to dance without snapping your shins? Too bad. You want to walk without your joints feeling like they're rubberbands? Too bad. You want the AI to suddenly come down with a fatal virus? Too bad._

He hadn't been jealous of Kaiden's advances toward her, per se. He knew it would be a cold day in hell before Shepard would break fraternization regs. They did seem to be made for each other; two powerful biotics with immense potential and undying respect for the Alliance and their duties to it. Joker had been suspicious of the commander for the first several months on the SR-1. His snarky wit usually got him into trouble with The Powers That Be, not enough to end up on his record, but he knew when to tamp it down. Shepard _encouraged_ his specific brand of humor, playing along with her own unique British quips.

He had an enormous amount of respect for her, above and beyond the unwarranted longing he felt at the very sight of her. But he was human enough to acknowledge the fact that he wouldn't mind seeing her naked. Now _that_ would be a cold day in hell.

He shifted in his chair, trying to get more comfortable. Her hand had been small and warm in his, but where her skin came into contact with him, he had burned. He didn't care much for white wine, but at that moment he wanted to taste it on her lips. The way her mouth caressed the words so perfectly had been almost addictive, and he had found himself slipping back into his native tongue almost by accident. Very few people knew he spoke anything other than Standard, and the thought of his commanding officer knowing a secret he had kept heavily guarded would normally have irked him. Now, it turned him on, and he found himself wanting to hear more.

_Keep dreaming, Jeff_, he thought, and tucked into his maintenance report with a sigh and an extra amount of self pity.

* * *

><p>Footnote: Yes, yes! A French-speaking Joker. I HAD to do it. My conversational French is rusty, at best. The only person I converse in French with is my grandma, and it's usually a one-sided conversation. Please excuse any mistakes, and if anyone would like to shoot me a message with any corrections needed, let me know.<p>

Translations for this chapter are in order:

"_Et tu, Brute_?": And you, Brutus? (Latin. If you don't get the reference, I would suggest you read up on Julius Caesar)

"_Snakker du norsk trenger_?": The formal way of asking someone if they speak Norwegian. Basically, "Do you speak Norwegian?"

"_Parli italiano_?": Do you speak Italian?

"_Tu loquerisne Latine_?": Do you speak Latin?

"_Sprechen Sie Duetch_?": Do you speak German?

"_Parlez-vous francais_?": Do you speak French?

"_Un tout petit peu_.": A tiny bit. (Oh Joker you liar!)

"_Que es-tu_?": Who are you?

Now, if they were to have had their French conversations in English:

"_Je les respecte (I respect you)_," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear and leaning her forearms on the table. There had been a softening of his features when she spoke French back on the bridge, and she switched languages effortlessly, trying to provide some comfort without actually touching him. "_Tu es ma meilleure copine (You're like my best friend)_."

"_Vraiment? (Really?)" _he replied, shaking his head.

"_Pardon? (What?)" _he spat, a grin splitting across his face. He had slipped back into French, much to her pleasant surprise._ "Tu te fous de ma gueule? (Are you kidding me?)_"

"_Excusez-moi? (Excuse me?)_"

"_C'est pue dire (That's an understatement)_," he grumbled, emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. He was leaning forward now, forearms on the table and hands inches from hers. He was purposely baiting her, and she was all too glad to play along with him. Seeing him cut loose and smile made her head spin with happiness.

"_Ta guel! (Shut up!)_" she exclaimed, with another soft slap to his arm. His sharp bark of laughter mingled with her giggle as they both leaned their heads on the table, shoulders shaking. His hands slid forward, still curled around his glass, but now his knuckles brushed against hers, a whisper of a touch.

"_Tu m'as manqué, (I missed you)_" he replied, quieter this time. A soft flush was creeping up his neck, and he was openly staring at her now. She sucked a breath in through her teeth, feeling her heart rate spike at the liquid heat of his stare. She tucked another curl behind her ear, and bit her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her mouth and back up to her eyes.

"_Je suis desole. Pardonne-moi? (I'm sorry. Forgive me?)"_

"_Ne fais pas l'idiot, mon Commanduer. (Don't be silly, Commander)._"

"_Mon chou, ça va bien? (Sweetie, are you ok?)_"

He quirked an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"_C'est sur, mon cherie. J'ai fem_. (Of course, my darling. I'm hungry.)"

This will probably be the longest chunk of dialogue in French, mainly because not too many people are familiar with the language. But if a chapter includes it, just scroll down to the footnotes to find the translation!


	3. III: One of Your Meteors

_Author's Note: _Translations are in the footnotes.

In case anyone was curious, Clementine is an ENFJ personality type. I use the MBTI for all my characters, which helps me set the gridwork for their quirks and growth. Joker would be an ESFP, of course.

[Insert standard Bioware disclaimer here]

* * *

><p>Year of comets and meteors transient and strange!—lo! even here, one equally transient<p>

and strange!

As I flit through you hastily, soon to fall and be gone, what is this book,

What am I myself but one of your meteors?

Excerpt from "Year of Meteors", Walt Whitman

* * *

><p>III<p>

One of Your Meteors

Joker was concentrating so hard on the readout in front of him, he didn't even hear EDI's announcement indicating Shepard, Jacob and Miranda had gone ashore. The integers scrolling on the screen were…problematic. He tabbed a comm channel open.

"Donnelly, are you seeing these numbers?"

"Aye," the engineer answered. "This is the second time this week I've recalibrated them damn couplin's. I jus' can't keep droppin' everythin' to make sure the damn things aren't shakin' loose." Donnelly's accent was especially thick when he was frustrated. With the comm channel still open, Joker could hear Gabby Daniels' sharp "here here!" of agreement.

"We've asked the commander to get some new T6-FBA couplings," Daniels continued. "I sure hope she remembers. I just don't want to bother her too much…but we're on Omega, and it's probably the only place they can be found now."

Joker swiveled in his chair to check a readout on the opposite side of the console, scowling in annoyance. "I'll remind her for you, Gabby. Don't you worry."

Joker did worry, however. It had been three days since his and Shepard's lunch on the Citadel (which he had been referring to, in his head of course, as the "Ginger Fiasco"), and she had yet to talk to him. Orders were sent to the bridge either over the comm or in the form of coordinates from the CIC. Joker was pulling double duty until he felt comfortable enough with the relief pilot being alone at the helm, so it wasn't as if she had wandered up to the bridge while he wasn't there. He was _always_ there.

She was avoiding him.

Shepard had been down to Omega and back twice now; apparently the asteroid was running a two for one special. _Get an angry, almost dead turian vigilante and receive a hyperactive salarian scientist and a grizzled mercenary for free! _Mordin was now making the tech lab his home, Garrus was holed up in the battery nursing his wounded face, and Zaeed was currently on a "tour" of the ship with Kelly Chambers.

Joker did a routine check of his coffee cup and found it to be almost empty.

"EDI, get me more coffee," he said, staring at the AI's holo.

"Even if it were possible for me to do so, Mr. Moreau," EDI responded. "I would not."

In a moment of absolute maturity, Joker stuck his tongue out at the blue orb.

"The human mouth contains up to 1,000 different types of bacteria. It has also been approximately 26 hours since you last brushed your teeth. While I do not have olfactory receptors, my assumption would be that your breath, exacerbated by a lack of oral hygiene and gratuitous amounts of coffee, is extremely unpleasant. I believe the colloquial response to your gesture would be, 'Put your tongue back where it belongs'."

_Shit. Did the AI just insult me?_

"I…Shut up, EDI." He thumbed the mute button and opened Shepard's comm channel. "Commander, Gabby and Ken wanted me to remind you about the couplings."

Judging by the team's suit cams, they were working their way through several stores. Currently, they were located somewhere that looked a bit less shady than the rest of the ward. From the camera angle he was getting off Shepard's hardsuit, he could almost make out the catalogue of items on the console in front of her.

"I haven't forgotten," she replied tersely. "I'm busy at the moment, but the couplings are on my to-do list."

Joker chuckled under his breath.

"'Busy'. _Sure_. Hey, Commander, make sure you get me a model of the _Destiny Ascension_. Mine went down with the SR-1."

On camera, Shepard's hand froze over the merch console. If he had to guess, she was smiling _just_ the slightest bit. He flipped the feed to Jacob's cam, and sure enough, a grin was playing on the edge of her lips.

_Got you._

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant."

"Sure, sure. If they don't have the _Destiny Ascension_, I'll take one of Sovereign. It can guard my hat at night."

She resumed her scrolling of the catalogue, but angled herself so he couldn't see the screen clearly. "You mean you don't _sleep_ in your hat?"

"Is that really what you thought?"

"Most would say it's a fair assumption."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander."

"Get back to work, helmsman. Tell our engineers I will get their couplings."

"Aye aye, _mon Commanduer_."

He was feeling better knowing Shepard wasn't _too_ angry with him anymore, but that didn't solve his coffee problem. If he was desperate, he could ask Chambers to bring him a fresh cup, but no amount of caffeine withdrawal was worth _that_. With a sigh and a groan, he rose from his chair and made his way to the elevator.

* * *

><p>Shepard had been almost one hundred percent sure her pilot slept with his hat on. She had even gone so far as to believe he <em>showered <em>with the damn thing (which led to her thinking about Joker _in_ the shower, and she quickly quashed that train of thought).

She had been frosty towards him since their lunch on the Citadel. There was no _real_ reason for her to be upset with him, other than the fact that he was a surly bastard and she (selfishly) wanted the boat shoe clad, French-speaking Joker who had so sweetly taken her hand from across the table. If Tali had been aboard, or even Ash for that matter, she maybe would have vented to either of them. But Tali was with the Flotilla, and Ash was dead.

_Damn. It still hurts to think about that_.

Shepard left the souvenir shop with a silly grin. Her purchases would be delivered directly to Chambers, with instructions to take them straight up to her quarters. It wasn't often she allowed herself a bit of fun and games, but the plan she formulated in her head was turning out to be a good one.

They purchased the couplings as well as a few other odds and ends (Shepard felt compelled to try an elcor brand of coffee. Why an _elcor_ would need caffeine was beyond her; no amount of the liquid would liven one up), and made their way back to the ship. Shepard had timed their return with a purpose; the relief pilot, a quiet man named Miller, was at the helm, Joker's shift having ended about forty-five minutes prior. She waved on Miranda and Jacob at the galaxy map, and sent the coordinates for _Purgatory_ with a note for Miller to have EDI wake her when they were within an hour of the ship.

In her quarters, the two boxes were waiting for her on the desk. Once upon a time in boarding school, Shepard had discovered a love for model ships. Unpacking a box was like Christmas, each piece fitting together perfectly to form a carrier or a frigate.

"EDI," she said, peeling out of her armor and replacing it with a tshirt and leggings.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Where is Helmsman Moreau?"

"He is currently on his way from the mess hall to the crew quarters. If he is abiding by his usual schedule, he will be changing out of uniform and getting into bed in approximately seven minutes. Nightly REM cycles suggest he will be asleep in approximately twenty-seven minutes."

"Thank you. Let me know if anything changes."

"Of course, Commander."

It was a little after 0200 ship time, and the rest of the regular crew would be asleep. Shepard, however, wasn't the least bit tired. She grabbed the smaller of the two boxes and set it on her coffee table, opening it with relish. Omega may have been a pisshole, but her inner child squealed with glee at the sight of the souvenir shop. She had gone in with the intention of filling up her own display case above her desk, and came out with a well-formulated plan.

Her and Joker were at a crossroad of sorts. She had learned more about him in the past few days then she had the entire time he had served under her on the SR-1. His walls were still up, but she had been able to slip a foot in the door, and was ready to _very carefully_ pry it open. He was the only one who had been there for her when she woke up, and had accepted her with (grudgingly) open arms. She knew that deep down, he did care, but a lifetime's worth of pushing people away and always having to prove himself had given him thick skin. There was, of course, no need for him to be so defensive around her; he had saved her more times than she could count. If they had to be on the ship, surrounded by Cerberus employees, she needed him. She needed him to let down his guard a bit and trust her. A small part of her _may_ have seen his surly attitude as a challenge of sorts, and Shepard had never been one to back down from a challenge. His absolute trust meant more to her than she could ever explain with words.

She decided a little prank would be explanation enough.

* * *

><p>Joker's alarm went off, all but shoving him into consciousness. His dreams had been a mishmash of nonsense; even now he was struggling to remember what exactly any of them were about. With a groan, he swung his legs to the floor, bare feet slapping cold metal. Out of reflex, he reached for his hat, where it hung on the peg next to his rack. Hand met peg, and there was no hat.<p>

_The shit?_

Wide-awake now, he ripped at the blanket, _carefully_ kneeled to peek under the rack, and even checked under his pillow. No black and white SR-2 cap was in sight, and he seethed.

Cerberus had only provided him with one, and now he was hatless.

"Somethin' wrong, Joker?" Donnelly asked, climbing down from his own rack with a stretch and a yawn.

"Hat's gone," Joker replied, opening his footlocker and pulling out a clean uniform. The hat in question was absent from his piles of clothes, clean and dirty.

"Naw! Damn thing's like a part o' ya body!"

"Your hat is missing?" that was Gabby, coming up next to Donnelly, mouth twisted in a frown. "Where was the last place you saw it?"

Joker rolled his eyes and stood, arms clutching his clean uniform. "Last night, when I went to bed, on the peg where I always hang it."

"We've got a thief aboard!" Donnelly shouted, throwing his hands up in mock fright.

"Kenneth!" Gabby punched the engineer in the arm. "Shut up! Joker is obviously upset. It isn't funny!" She turned back to Joker, who was making his way out of the crew quarters to the head. "We'll keep an eye out for it."

Joker made a dismissive motion with his hand and headed to the showers, feeling naked.

At the helm, he relieved Miller, and went to work checking the relief pilot's flying. Their FTL vector had brought them in-system with the prison ship _Purgatory_, a massive ark station that looked akin to a metal centipede. Reassured that Miller hadn't done anything too wrong, Joker reached for his cup of fresh coffee, frowning. He still felt naked, even after donning his uniform and boots. He ran an awkward hand through his hair, which, once freed of its usual imprisonment, stuck out in tufts. Most likely he needed a trim, but that was low on his list of priorities.

"Mr. Moreau, you seem to be disgruntled this morning." EDI's holo appeared on her console to his left. "And you have altered your appearance. You look…different."

Joker gritted his teeth. _I hate everyone._

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about my missing hat, would you EDI?"

"It would seem the disappearance of your hat is the cause of your agitation. I do not know the whereabouts of it, Mr. Moreau. But if I see it, I will alert you to its location."

_Today is not my day_.

He busied himself with bringing the _Normandy _in to dock with _Purgatory_, nosing up to the walkway and waiting for the tube to pressurize. Joker wasn't too keen on the whole "bringing a dangerous convict" on board his ship, but Shepard had assured him "Jack" wouldn't be a problem. The common sense part of his brain was telling him that his commander was an accomplished, powerful biotic and knew best. The rest of his brain was telling him it was an absolutely terrible idea.

The sound of boots on metal gangway announced Shepard's arrival to the bridge. Joker, still feeling naked, hunkered down in his chair and grunted a non-committal hello.

"Helmsman, are you out of uniform?"

Shepard appeared in his peripheral vision, wearing armor and a small smile. She had her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, tendrils of blonde escaping to frame her face. She stepped in front of him with her arms crossed.

"You got something to say, Commander?" his voice dripped sarcasm, and he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"You're quite handsome without the hat."

Joker felt a flush rise on his neck and, out of habit, reached up to pull the brim of his hat down over his eyes. Finding nothing but hair, he ran a hand through that instead.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about my missing hat, would you Commander?"

Shepard quirked a brow.

"Why would I need a stinky ol' hat?"

"To make yourself as good looking as I am."

"Last time I checked, I was the best looking one on this ship," came a flanging voice from behind his chair. Garrus, clad in his damaged armor and face bandage, rolled his weight onto one hip and winked.

"Did that rocket cause brain damage, too?" Joker asked, spinning his chair to face the turian. Zaeed was standing next to Garrus, shaking his head.

"You all are wrong," the mercenary growled. "_I'm_ the best lookin' bastard on this boat."

Shepard, who had moved to rest her hands on the top of Joker's chair, was laughing.

"You all are ridiculous. Let's go, Massani, Vakarian. We have a convict to pick up." She laid a hand gently on his hatless head before making her way to the airlock, Garrus bumping his arm into her shoulder companionably.

* * *

><p>Shepard was immediately wary of Warden Kuril. The turian had a manner about him that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Garrus, standing inches behind her, leaned down to whisper a word in her ear.<p>

"Bareface."

That was all the confirmation she needed. She laid a calming hand on Garrus' arm, and motioned for him and Zaeed to follow her down the corridor towards out processing.

"I've pu' one or two of these sorry sods away," Zaeed growled. The man had apparently taken offense to Kuril's "bounty hunters aren't reliable" comment.

They passed several cells, including one containing a prisoner being beat by a guard, and a very creepy murderer who hadn't showered in three months. Shepard was secretly glad for the foot of plasglass between her and the convict.

The corridor ended in a large, sparse room, where another guard waved them on towards a door at the opposite end. Garrus was making a small, discontented growling noise, one that Shepard didn't need to ask the meaning of. His apprehension made her spine tighten, and biotic energy began to spread down her arms, unchecked.

The door hissed open, revealing a…cell.

"You're more valuable as a prisoner, Shepard," came Kuril's voice over the ship's comm system. "Drop your weapons and step into the cell and you'll be unharmed."

"This is why we can't go anywhere nice," came Joker's voice over her comm. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she unlatched her shotgun from its place on her back. Blue Sun mercs started pouring into the room, and Shepard rolled to her right behind a desk, feeling the familiar build of pressure in her chest. Her fingertips started to tingle, and she cocked her shotgun.

The mnemonic was a simple pull of her shoulder blades together, forcing the torrent of energy from her chest out to envelope her entire body. The biotic field that surrounded Shepard let her sprint into a mass free channel at blistering speed, pushed at the same time by more energy, right into the closest merc. Armor hit armor with a resounding _smack_, and his shields failed with a flicker. Her target reeled back in pain, cussing, and she raised her shotgun to his face and unloaded a cyro round, shattering his helmeted head. To her left, Garrus was unloading shot after shot from his sniper, and Zaeed was laughing as he sprayed another merc with rounds from his assault rifle.

The trio cleared the room and sprinted back through the corridor they came through, this time to find almost all the doors had been locked. Shepard hacked the nearest one, which opened into a windowed observation deck. A bullet whizzed over her right shoulder as Garrus shot the worker standing at the control console, and she rushed forward, kicking the body out of the way.

Below them was a wide deck lined with cells, their occupants pounding on the doors and yelling vicious threats.

"That'll open every cell in this place," Garrus said, eyeing the haptic interface in front of her.

"It's the only way to get Jack out and get off this ship," she replied, swiping through several layers of security. "I'm doing it."

A massive robotic arm extended from the middle of the floor, hydraulic claws sinking into the floor of the deck and twisting. With a hiss of cryogenic fog, a tube was lifted up, the small form of a woman shackled inside. She was covered in tattoos and not much else, from her legs to her shaved head.

"_That's _Jack?" Garrus said incredulously.

As if in answer, the woman's eyes flew open. Almost immediately, she wrenched free of the metal restraints and fell with a soft thump to the decking, body vibrating with biotic energy. Warning klaxons began to sound, and three YMIR mechs began to advance towards the cyro tube. Jack _threw_ herself at the middle machine, fist glowing blue as her punch lifted it up into the air, where it promptly exploded.

"Bloody hell," Zaeed exclaimed. It was almost reverent.

"We've got to get down there," Shepard said, turning on her heel to a side door. The twisting hall led them down to the deck below, where the three mechs now lay in smoldering ruins. Jack hadn't bothered hacking a door open; instead it looked as if she had blasted her way through it, leaving a gaping hole where a door had once been.

"I feel as if she's got it under control," Garrus said, eying one of the sparking machines.

"Yes, but how rude would it be if we missed her party?" Shepard replied, leaning the barrel of her shotgun against a shoulder. "We were invited, after all."

The trio pressed forward into the depths of the cell block, following the path of destruction left by Subject Zero.

* * *

><p>Joker watched from the safety of the bridge as Shepard and her team fought their way through an almost laughable amount of Blue Sun mercs and escaped prisoners. He knew that the amount of biotic energy Shepard was expending would leave her utterly exhausted on her return, as well as ravenous. That is, if they made it back in one piece.<p>

_Shut up, brain. Stop thinking shit like that. She's perfectly capable of handling a few mercs._

The trio was tag-teaming the turian warden now, and Joker's breath caught in his throat as he watched Shepard charge, the force of her bodily attack taking out the remainder of Kuril's shields. Her biotic sprint left her within reach, and he lashed out, trying to grab at the commander. She danced out of the way, impossibly quick, and over her comm channel he could hear her _laughing._ Shepard landed a biotic-enforced punch to Kuril's face before flipping backwards off the platform, landing next to Garrus.

"Fall back guys. It's going to get messy."

Zaeed and Garrus retreated to cover, leaving Shepard to deal with the warden. A dark ball of biotic energy left her outstretched hands to hit Kuril in the chest, lifting him up weightlessly, entrapped in a micro singularity. Joker had seen the move utilized before, but it was always a reminder of just how powerful of a biotic Shepard was. It was a technique that should have qualified her as an Adept by military standards; it took a biotic of immense power and ability to produce, but her proficiency with hand-to-hand and shotguns was second to none. Joker watched her biosign readouts; her core body temperature had risen above 100 degrees F, and he knew the amp at the base of her skull had to be burning hot. She was expending herself above and beyond what her body was capable of, and he almost tabbed her comm open to warn her.

It was pointless, of course. Shepard knew her limits better than anyone. Even with her temp fluctuating between 100 and 103 degrees, she was holding the singularity with one hand and gathering more biotic energy with the other. With a forward shove, she unleashed a massive burst of indigo light. Warp met singularity, ripping the warden apart at the molecular level, while the micro gravity of singularity imploded, creating a violent explosion of white and blue light.

Energy dissipated, and Shepard panted, turning back to her crew. Residual biotics lit up the outline of her figure with a shimmer; she looked almost ethereal.

"She's done more with that amp than even our best scientists hypothesized."

Miranda Lawson stood a respectable distance from Joker's chair, watching the vid feeds with a petulant look on her face. He swiveled 180 degrees, lacing his hands behind his head in mock petulance.

"Don't act like you're not jealous, Lawson," Joker retorted. The woman oozed authority, and suddenly the bridge felt too small.

"I'm not jealous, Mr. Moreau. Shepard is performing above and beyond our specifications; I'm incredibly pleased."

Joker scoffed. "You make her sound like a winning science project. She's a _person_, not something you submit for a grade."

Miranda crossed her arms below her ample chest, looking affronted. "I oversaw her reconstruction for two years. I have more personal stake in this mission than you could ever imagine. That being said, you sound awfully upset for someone who despises all people." She took several steps towards his chair. "I was always vaguely intrigued at your…loyalty to Shepard. Every piece of information I have on you suggests you truly hate working with others, and yet your performance so far has been exemplary, especially when following orders from the commander."

"In case you haven't realized, it's my _job_ to follow orders from my commanding officer? Shepard says, 'Fly the ship here', and I do. Shepard says, 'Come drag my ass out of this volcano!', and I do. It's what I've been _doing_ since the SR-1."

Miranda's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose at his outburst. "Well then. Carry on, helmsman. But just remember; you're not the only person on this ship with a personal interest in our lovely commander." She turned on her heel and walked back down the gangway, hips swaying in an almost vulgar manner. Joker watched her go and repressed a shudder.

_She's _so_ not my type. I bet she eats her partners. Like a black widow spider._

He turned back to the vid feeds in time to see Shepard convincing Jack into joining their cause. _Purgatory_ was on the verge of blowing apart in a spectacular show of ship parts and escaped convicts, and he silently urged Shepard to hurry up and get back to the ship. They needed to maintain their docking position and attachment to the pressurized walkway in order for Shepard and her crew to escape, but Joker began warming the eezo core for a quick get away, tabbing up several readouts and double-checking their fuel reserves. The airlock hissed as the decontamination process started before admitting the team and Jack onto the bridge.

Shepard stumbled out first, looking exhausted and exuberant at the same time, almost vibrating energy. She was still shimmering slightly, and Joker peered out the corner of his eye at her biosigns; she was still running a 101 degree temperature. Behind her, Garrus and Zaeed were warily escorting Jack, who was eying everything with malice.

"Joker, Jack. Jack, this is Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, my pilot." Shepard gestured to Joker's chair with a gloved hand. "I apologize ahead of time for his sense of humor."

Jack narrowed her eyes at the helmsman, curling thick lips back from her teeth in a sneer.

"Another Cerberus lackey. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Actually," Shepard interrupted, holding a hand up. "Joker and I go way back to the original _Normandy_."

"Still wearing a Cerberus uniform. If it looks like a duck…"

"Alright, let's continue on! Joker, get us out of here."

Joker exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. Something about an unpredictable, ridiculously powerful biotic on his bridge amplified his awareness of just how fragile he was. He ran a hand through his hair and nosed the _Normandy _out into the dark expanse of space.

Later, Joker set his food tray down on a mess hall table, prodding the coagulating mass of goo with a fork. Gardener claimed it was scalloped potatoes and ham, but Joker didn't recall the staple dish ever looking _that_ much like drying glue. Shepard, divulged of armor and battle grime, wearing a black and white Cerberus uniform, set her tray down next to him.

"It has got to be a pain in the ass being vegetarian on a ship," he said, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. Shepard's fare looked only slightly better; reconstituted something or other that was a sickly dark green, covered in lumps of what was probably tofu that had been marinating in a bag for years.

"The worst part is getting the protein I need to fuel my biotics," she replied, shoving a straw into a juice cube. Strawberry flavored, by the look of the packaging; something electrolyte-packed to help replace what she had lost during her recent biotic expenditures. Joker's groin almost ached at the sight of her lips wrapping around the straw, and he busied himself with the tray of food in front of him.

"I used to love tofu," she continued, stabbing a grey lump and examining it before popping it in her mouth. "Now every time I'm somewhere slightly civilized, I stock up on almonds, pita bread and cans of garbanzo beans. Gardener promised me he has an amazing hummus recipe, so I bought an entire crate while we were on the Citadel."

"You're stashing snacks, aren't you, Commander?" Joker pushed his lower lip out in a mock pout, and she giggled.

"If you're nice, maybe I'll share. Do you like spicy food?"

Joker chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "That depends. Before a long shift? Probably a bad idea. But in general? Yeah. The spicier the better."

"Oh ew, Joker!" Shepard laughed, and nudged his shoulder with hers. The soft tingle of eezo made the hairs on the right side of his body stand up. She was still wired from their mission, apparently.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, Shepard chasing stray cubes of tofu around her tray and then asking Gardener for seconds. If Joker hadn't known better, he would have had a hard time believing the tiny woman sitting next to him could put away that amount of food on a regular basis.

"Did you ever find your hat?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"No," he scowled, glaring at his empty tray in frustration. "EDI claims to have no idea of its whereabouts, and none of the crew I've talked to has seen it. I'm starting to think someone is hiding it as a joke."

Shepard cocked her head thoughtfully, blonde curls spilling over her shoulder. "Who have you angered lately? Wait, don't even bother answering that question."

"Now Commander, why would you think that little ol' me would ever make anyone upset?"

She rose from the table, tray in hand, and leveled a petulant look at him. His stomach made its way north to his throat at her stern gaze.

"Hmm, maybe you should ask _yourself_ that question?"

Joker's mouth dropped open, but Shepard was gone before he could find his tongue to retort.

Back at the helm, Joker fumed. _Maybe you should ask yourself that question? What the shit is that supposed to mean? _

Sure, he was a surly bastard most of the time, but that was his usual _modus operandi_. Everyone on the ship knew by now that the bridge was his space, and the ship was his baby. Nobody fussed about it. He could be crass and churlish towards the commander as well, but that was normal, too. To his knowledge, it had never bothered Shepard before, until after they had come back from the disaster lunch on the Citadel. It had taken days for her to thaw enough to talk to him, and that was the first time he could ever remember her being _angry_ with him. _Wait…_

"EDI, where is the commander?"

"Commander Shepard is currently in the deck below engineering, in conversation with Jack."

Joker pulled up the surveillance for engineering, zooming in on the figures of Shepard and the convict.

_The shit!_

Shepard had changed out of her uniform into jeans and a tank top, probably to make Jack feel more comfortable. Joker couldn't image how well a conversation with the angry woman would go over if the commander had shown up in a Cerberus uniform. Shepard's white tank top practically glowed on camera, but not as bright as his hat on her head.

"You knew about this, didn't you EDI?" Joker spat, leaning in and staring at the vid screen. Shepard was sitting against a bulkhead and watching as Jack paced the perimeter of the alcove.

"The commander requested I 'pretend' to be unaware of the location of your hat, Mr. Moreau. I cannot disobey a direct order from her."

Joker sat back in his chair and gritted his teeth. Of course no one had found his hat laying around, because she had hidden it up in her quarters. He groaned and ran a hand through his now disheveled hair. So she was still pissed at him, which was both a surprise and annoying. Joker wished she would just _explain_ why she was upset, but even as he wished it, he stopped. She wasn't telling him anything, because he hadn't given her the opportunity to. His quips and cantankerous demeanor had repeatedly chased her off the bridge before they even began the semblance of an actual conversation. He slumped his shoulders and tabbed her private comm.

"Commander, when you're done talking to the crazy biotic woman, can you come up to the bridge? I have a question."

On camera, he watched her tilt her head slightly before pressing a finger to her ear and replying, "Be up in a few."

He stretched in his chair and tried to pat his hair down, suddenly feeling nervous.

* * *

><p>Jack was coiled more tightly than an angry cobra, and Shepard didn't particularly want to be there when the woman struck, but command was command, and so she slipped into the alcove beneath engineering to try and talk. A person, no matter how patient, could only be called "princess" so many times before the carefully constructed mask started to slip. Luckily, Joker's voice in her ear had been an excuse to leave Jack to stew, and Shepard all but sprinted up the stairs to the elevator.<p>

As she made her way up the gangway, she tried to force her metaphorical commander mask back in place. She knew why Joker had called her up to the bridge. His unlimited access to the ship's surveillance cams along with a quick mind meant he had solved her riddle, and he was most likely annoyed with her. A small voice in her head worried that he would be more angry than amused, essentially ruining the sole purpose of her prank. _This is Joker we're talking about here_, she chided herself. _He's been here since the beginning. He's not going anywhere._

The bridge was dark, the ship having slipped into its night cycle several hours ago. Auroras of mass fields eddied across the windows as Joker piloted them through the black. He spun his chair to face her, and leaned his elbows on his thighs, a grin playing on the edge of his lips. She almost faltered; that was not the reaction she expected from him.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me, Commander." His voice was playful, his hair sticking up wildly where he had no doubt run his hands through it. Without the shade from the brim of his hat, she could see how the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant," she replied, edging closer to his chair. She stopped just out of his reach and rolled her weight onto one hip, fighting to keep a straight face.

He raised a hand and crooked a finger in a "come here" motion, narrowing his eyes. She stayed rooted, sticking her tongue out at him in mock indignation.

"Real mature, Commander."

He drew out the syllables in her title, green eyes never leaving her face. She could feel the familiar tingle in her toes and fingertips, and tamped it down with a deep breath.

"Can I have my hat back now?"

"Hmm." She tapped a finger against her lips, quirking a brow. "Not yet. I kind of like it."

To her surprise, he stood, a full six inches taller than her, and took a step, hand outstretched. She ducked under his arm, twisting away.

"This is entirely unfair."

He lurched forward to try and grab at her again, and she dodged again. Her quick change of direction caught him off balance, and he stumbled. Shepard saw him pitch forward, and reached out, unchecked biotic energy swirling, and caught him with both hands under his upper arms. His momentum carried him forward until he fell into her, cushioned by the mass field. His hands were grasping her upper arms, fingers almost completely encircling her biceps. _This was not the outcome I expected_, she thought briefly. _But ok._ She noticed how cold his skin was before the soft shadow of a thought flickered in her mind.

_Belle femme._

She froze, his voice still echoing in the recesses of her conscience. His mouth had never opened except in surprise as he pitched forward before she caught him. Her projected biotics enveloped them both in a shimmering cloud, lighting their figures with energy. She was _hearing_ his thoughts, bonded by the skin-to-skin contact of their hands.

He had frozen at the same moment as her, and she _felt_ his surprise, a shadow of a feeling that traveled across her arms and up into her chest. There was an undercurrent of apprehension, and the deeper, huskier feel of arousal along with it. She tipped her head to look at him from under the brim of his hat, and his eyes widened as he felt _her_ response to his emotions.

Almost on instinct, they both pulled each other closer, subtle shades of thoughts becoming louder in her mind. They were abstract, more emotion than words, his mind moving too fast for her to catch anything fully formed. Her heart rate spiked as his lips parted, and he leaned his head down, avoiding the hat bill. He paused, eyes searching both of hers.

_Es-t__u sûr?_

She didn't know if he had been asking her or himself, but she pulled him closer, breath catching in her throat.

_Oui._

His lips met hers, and she felt a spark of biotic energy grow and pulse brighter, white even behind her closed eyelids. One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers lacing into her hair with surprising strength. The other splayed across her back and pulled her closer, molding her body to his. She could feel his pleasure on top of hers; it was both heady and almost unbearable. He groaned softly against her lips, and his tongue invaded her mouth, hot and earnest. Desire ignited low in her belly, spreading warmth through her body. She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye as she fought to control the torrent of emotions surging between them. The guilt was not hers, but it pulled at her until she broke, threading her hands into his hair and countering his kiss with a fevered need.

_How long?_ She felt the thought leave her mind, unbidden.

_Since I lost you, _came his answer, before being swept away on a tide of sensation.

His thoughts became unintelligible strings of images and emotions, and as his mouth moved against hers, she found his lower lip and caught it between her teeth. His sharp intake of breath was her undoing; she felt her amp overheat at the base of her skull, and she pulled back, stumbling until her feet caught the bottom of his chair. She landed in it with a thump, biotic energy dissipating until the bridge was dark, lit only by the flight console and the eddying mass field dancing around the outside of the _Normandy._ Joker was still standing; panting like he had just ran a marathon. His hair was disheveled where her fingers had raked through it.

The back of her neck burned, and she lifted her hair to the side and skimmed a finger over the amp. It sparked angrily, and she yelped as black spots danced in front of her eyes. Her head lolled back against the chair, suddenly becoming too heavy for her to support.

"Clem?"

She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Joker was kneeling in front of her, hands outstretched in confusion. Her feet dangled off the edge of the chair, and he used the footrest as a place for his knees.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, forcing her eyes open. "My amp. Overheated. Can't move."

"Are you ok? Is there something I can do?"

He looked scared, and she reached out to cup the side of his face in her hand. _My pilot._ Skin met skin, along with the crackle of biotic energy, and her amp sparked again. She withdrew her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears of frustration and pain and guilt.

"Don't…don't touch me."

He reeled back as if she had slapped him, and she grabbed at the front of his uniform.

"NO! I _want_ you to touch me. I just…my amp. Too much. Don't…don't touch skin on skin."

He let out a sigh of relief and stood, breaking her hold.

"Can you stand? For just a second, ok?"

She pushed herself wearily from his chair, swaying as she got to her feet. He sat in her place, rolling the sleeves of his uniform down his arms, and beckoned her towards him. Carefully, she settled between his legs, thankful Cerberus had installed such a pretentiously oversized pilot's chair. When she was settled, her head falling onto his chest, he grabbed her thighs at the knee and hoisted them over one of the arms so she was cradled against him, her weight resting on the seat between his legs.

With her ear pressed against the fabric of his uniform, she could hear his erratic heartbeat. The back of her neck was still blisteringly hot, and her throat felt too dry.

"Clem? You ok?"

She blinked up at him and realized she was still wearing his hat.

"I think so. Just so tired. And my neck hurts. And my head. And I'm thirsty."

Joker leaned forward, one sleeved arm holding her in place while the other reached for a bottle of water next to the console. He handed it to her, careful to avoid her fingers. She frowned, brow knitting together.

"S'not fair." She took a sip of water.

"What _was_ that?" he asked. He was looking down at her with a concerned frown.

"Would you believe me if I said that's never happened before?"

His laugh shook her as his chest and shoulders moved. He flicked the bill of his hat up in order to see her better.

"Is that why they call it 'seeing fireworks'?"

Shepard pushed her lower lip out in a pout. His face was _so_ close to hers, but the heat on the back of her neck stopped her from reaching forward to grab his head and pull his lips to hers.

"You can blame Cerberus for the light show. I've never been so out of control with my biotics before."

He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"And the…mind reading thing?"

She tensed, flushing as she recalled the images that had flooded her mind as their lips connected. Her pilot apparently had a vivid imagination.

"I really don't know the answer to that, either." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I'm sorry."

His arm tightened around her, and he sighed.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Clementine. I should be the one apologizing."

"I stole your hat!"

"And I _kissed_ you."

"To be fair, you asked first."

His faltered, and his eyes widened at the memory. A flush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks.

"How much did you see?"

She grinned. "Enough."

His blush deepened, and he busied himself with something on the console in front of them. Briefly, she wondered if he could fly the ship with one hand, and then chided herself for even asking such a stupid question. He could fly the ship with no hands, blindfolded if he had to.

"Jeff." Shepard couldn't remember the last time she had called him anything other than "Joker" or "Lieutenant". His name warmed her tongue and she smiled. "Please don't be embarrassed. I'm…I'm flattered."

He scowled, a look so familiar on his face it made her giggle. Without his hat to hide half of his face, she noticed that one of his eyebrows quirked up higher than the other.

"You, Clementine Shepard, N7, Hero of the Citadel, undead Commander, are flattered by the private thoughts of your helmsman?"

"Don't discount yourself, Jeff. And yes, I'm flattered. And turned on. I would be doing more about it, except my head might explode if I tried."

He pondered for a moment before he smiled, looking smug.

"You're turned on, huh?"

"As if the light show wasn't proof enough?"

He leaned his head down, pushing the brim of his hat up. His lips were inches from hers.

"What about now?" he whispered, voice husky and laced with unspoken promises. Shepard pressed her legs together and groaned, fisting the front of his uniform. He smiled and pulled his head away, making her frown.

"I think I need sleep. Sleep and a cold shower and maybe ask Miranda what the hell is going on with my biotics."

Beneath her, Joker froze.

"And uh…how are you going to explain that to her?"

"Are you afraid of Miranda?"

"That woman eats babies for breakfast."

Shepard laughed weakly, burying her head against his chest.

"I'll figure something out. Don't worry. But I'd…I'd like to try and figure _this_ out, too." She peeked at him through her lashes. He ran his free hand through her hair, careful not to touch skin.

"I do too. _Tenter le coup_."

"Good. _Suave-moi la mise."_

He chucked and pulled her close.

"I know. It's not like I haven't done it before."

She closed her eyes and drifted, lulled by the quiet drone of the _Normandy_ and her pilot's heartbeat under her hand.

* * *

><p>Joker let Shepard sleep in his lap while he monitored their FTL vector. In reality, he wasn't doing anything other than backing up EDI's calculations, and used the downtime to marvel at the woman leaning on him.<p>

_I kissed her. She kissed me. Holy shit._

He had been angry at her for stealing her hat, but her form on his bridge, petite frame wrapped in jeans and a soft white tank top, wearing _his_ hat on top of her curls...it was almost as if she was a present just for him to unwrap.

Kissing her had been...right. And not just _right_, but powerful, addictive, and terrifying. Her skin was blistering hot where his hands had grasped her arms, and he felt the tingle of biotics run through his body, enveloping them. He could feel her surprise and arousal, spreading through him like wildfire. Never in his life had he felt an attraction so powerful and instinctual; it was as if she knew exactly what he wanted, and vice versa. She filled his head with her own heated need, and he didn't even care that she could see the thoughts pouring out of his mind. He _wanted_ to let her in, to let her have all of him.

Thinking about her body pressed up against his _while_ her body was still pressed up against his was a dangerous combination. Her eyelids fluttered lightly as she slept, and he ran his free hand through he hair. It was as soft as he thought it would be. He sighed, checking the time. The day cycle would be starting soon, and he would need to get at least a little rack time before they hit the Citadel again. He tabbed a comm.

"Garrus."

"Joker?"

The turian barely ever slept. He was as obsessed with the ship's gun as Joker was with the ship itself.

"Yeah uh...can you come up to the bridge? I need a package delivered to Shepard's quarters. Discreetly. And be quiet when you come up. Ok?"

There was a very pregnant pause, and Joker fiddle with one of Shepard's curls, wrapping it around his pinky finger.

"I'll be up in a minute."

Joker allowed himself a moment of self-pity. His legs weren't strong enough to support his weight and Shepard's, otherwise he would have been carrying her up to her quarters. She would want to wake up in her own bed, and there would be less questions to answer if it was just Garrus witnessing Shepard asleep on Joker's lap.

The turian's footsteps were muted as he walked up the gangway, and as Joker spun his chair, Garrus stopped in his tracks.

"What..."

"Long story," Joker said, fighting the flush he knew was spreading across his cheeks. "Her amp overloaded and she passed out and well...I can't carry her."

"Shouldn't I be taking her to the med bay?"

"No, no, nothing like that. She's just spent from getting Jack off that ship and all her biotics. It's fine, she just needs rest and probably a giant breakfast."

Garrus' face softened slightly. "I know that's not the whole story, but I won't ask. However, I will say it's about time you both figured it out."

"Uh, what?"

The turian snorted, crossing his arms on his armored chest.

"You've got to be kidding me. You two have been dancing around each other since I can remember. If anyone knows what sexual tension looks like, it's a turian."

Joker clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his sputtering, not wanting to wake Shepard. "Whatever. Can you get her upstairs? People are going to be waking up soon and I don' think she'd appreciate being ogled by the Cerberus crew."

Garrus shook his head and stepped forward, sliding a hand under Shepard's knees and one under her neck, careful to keep her hair between his arm and her amp. She didn't move, and Joker adjusted the hat on her head. She could keep it for the time being. It looked better on her. His commander looked especially small ensconced in the turian's arms, and he nodded a brief thank you to Garrus before turning back to the flight console. He rubbed a hand warily over his face, and noticed the smell of her still lingered on his skin and uniform; soft floral scents of lavender and peony. He still had three hours left in his shift, and he busied himself with a maintenance log, smiling.

Four and a half hours later, he moved stiffly to his bunk, exhausted. Miller had showed up an hour prior the the relief shift on the pretense that he wanted to watch Joker perform a gravity well maneuver. It had taken him another hour to explain the exact calculus and technique behind aerobraking the _Normandy _using a gas giant's own gravity. By the time he had left the bridge, he was dragging, and his breakfast had been cold. There was no Shepard in sight at the mess, and he figured she would still be sleeping in the comfort of her quarters.

At his locker, he pulled off his uniform and dug for his fatigues, fighting a yawn. Ship racks had never been the most comfortable place to lay his head, but he was looking forward to some serious shut eye.

A white and black SR-2 hat stopped him.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he stared at the hat for a second before grabbing it and placing it on the peg where it belonged. Underneath was a small, perfectly to scale model of the SSV _Normandy _SR-1, the kind you could buy in souvenir shops and put together with model glue and a lot of patience. His heart swelled, and he carefully cradled the model in his hands. The white body of the miniature frigate shone softly in the crew quarters lights. He missed the _Normandy_, the ship he had fought so hard to pilot. He had told Anderson he was born to fly her. And then he had lost her.

He had lost Shepard too. But she was here, and he had followed her without question, a chance to make up for his greatest mistake. And she had kissed him.

Smiling, he set the tiny SR-1 on the shelf next to his hat peg, and settled into bed, feeling content.

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

_Belle femme:_ beautiful woman

_Modus operandi:_ mode of operation; how one normally goes about buisness

_Es-t__u sûr_?: are you sure?

_Oui: _yes.

_Tenter le coup_: I want to try.

_Suave-moi la mise: _I need you to save my ass.


	4. IV: The Troubled Midnight

_Author's Note_: Filler chapter. Thanks to VeelsMe for combing through my 4am ramblings. You're the best.

* * *

><p>She turned away, but with the autumn weather<p>

Compelled my imagination many days,

Many days and many hours:

Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.

And I wonder how they should have been together!

I should have lost a gesture and a pose.

Sometimes these cogitations still amaze

The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.

Excerpt from "La Figlia che Piange" by T.S. Eliot

* * *

><p>IV<p>

The Troubled Midnight

Shepard _ached_.

The base of her skull was raw around her amp. Her neck throbbed, as well as her head. She had woken up in her own bed, grasping for the front of Joker's uniform. Her hand found black sheets, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Joker's hat lay squashed between her cheek and the pillow.

It came back to her in a wave of emotion. They had kissed, her amp overloaded, and she fell asleep in his lap at the helm of her ship.

Her stomach twisted as she contemplated. The outcome was not what she had been looking for. She wanted to crack Joker's snarky attitude, and instead found herself melting into his form as if it was the hundredth time they had kissed. He felt like home, like all things safe and happy. But he was still her pilot, and she was still his commander. Technically, her subordinate. Two years ago, the thought of even toeing the frat reg line would have never been one she entertained. Kaiden had tried; fruitlessly, of course, but he had tried. In the calm before Ilos, he had approached her quarters with a bottle of wine in his hand and the spark of things left unsaid in his eyes. They had shared a few glasses, but Shepard had dismissed him on the grounds they both needed rest before the mission. She wouldn't soon forget the look on his face as he took one last glance at her, eyes dark with sadness and unrequited love. But her morals always took the higher ground.

She padded to the head, swishing water in her mouth, when her eyes found the miniscule model of the SR-1. Purchased on Omega, she assembled it as a gift for Joker. Under the cover of dark, she slipped down to the crew deck and returned his hat, placing the tiny _Normandy_ underneath it. Returning to her quarters, she had managed to get another three hours of blissfully peaceful sleep.

The next time she woke, her headache had abated slightly, but the throbbing _need_ she felt was still present. The cold shower didn't help, and by the time she was dressed, her biotics were again crackling up and down her figure. Shepard sighed and decided it was time to see the good doctor.

Chakwas raised an eyebrow at her as the medbay door hissed open, but said nothing as Shepard sat on a hospital bed with her head between her hands.

"Can you check my amp? I think I broke it."

With a sigh, the doctor gathered the commander's curly hair in a messy ponytail, and ran her omnitool over the metal port nestled in the base of her skull. She tsk'd when the readings came back.

"You need to work harder on controlling your biotic output, Commander. I'm not well-versed in this specific type of amp, but I'm sure it wasn't manufactured to handle the amount of strain you're placing on it."

"I'm doing nothing more than the normal amount. Er…at least what was normal before I…died."

Chakwas gave her an appraising look. "Perhaps we should get Operative Lawson to look at it. She would certainly be of more help in the matter."

Shepard groaned, but didn't stop the doctor from paging Miranda. The XO wouldn't have to know specifics, such as the feeling of absolute ecstasy she felt the second Joker's lips touched hers, or the way his thoughts had flooded her mind with images of them engaging in provocative activities sans clothing. There was only a hint of surprise at the vibrancy and imaginative qualities of Joker's thoughts; Shepard had always guessed he had an active subconscious. The fact that he had been daydreaming about her -about _them-_ filled her with a certain smugness. Never once would she ever guessed he had been harboring any sort of emotional attachment to her.

The click of high-heeled boots heralded Miranda's appearance. The operative looked intrigued as Shepard shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, mentally tamping down her wandering mind.

"Lean forward and put your head between your knees, Commander."

Shepard complied, and shivered at the feel of Miranda's fingers prodding the skin around her amp. The area was tender and raw, and she flinched as the operative applied more pressure.

"The doctor is correct, Shepard," Miranda said, tipping her back up into a sitting position. "Your biotic expenditures are drawing more power from the amp than it is able to provide. I can replace the battery, but that's only a temporary fix."

"Controlling strong emotions will help," Chakwas added, crossing her arms, a slightly knowing look on her face. _Crap_, Shepard thought. _How much does she know? Nosy woman.__  
><em>

"Um, Miranda?" Shepard twisted her hands in her lap nervously. "What about…is it possible that I would be able to hear other people's thoughts?"

Both the doctor and Miranda rounded on her, eyes wide. Shepard chewed at the inside of her lip, a deplorable habit she had developed as a small child.

"What do you mean when you say, 'hear other people's thoughts'?"

Shepard took a deep steadying breath, and reached for her biotics. Blue energy eddied across her arms, and she reached a hand out to Miranda. "Put your palm on mine."

Hesitantly, Miranda complied. As skin met skin, Shepard felt the ghost of emotion cross her conscious. The operative was afraid, and her fear resonated in the commander's chest.

_Do you see what I mean?_ Shepard thought, forming the words carefully in the front of her mind, visualizing them. Miranda jumped back, her own biotics sparking as their hands separated.

"Bloody hell," she said as the sharp smell of ozone filled the medbay. "I _heard _you."

"Yes," Shepard supplied simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I only felt your emotions, but had you concentrated hard enough, I probably would have heard a thought or two as well. I'm not sure. This is all…new."

Miranda gathered herself and pulled up her omnitool. "When was the first time this happened?"

Shepard felt heat spread across her face, and she stole a look at Chakwas. The doctor gave her a wink and the slightest of nods.

"Last night."

Miranda made a note. "And was the person you touched biotic?"

"No."

"Who was it?"

She stole another glance at Chakwas, who was pointedly staring at the ceiling. _Thanks, Karin. A load of help you are._ Shepard took a deep breath.

"Joker."

She caught the flash of Chakwas' grin before Miranda's eye bored into hers.

"And _how_ exactly were you close enough to touch Helmsman Moreau?"

"I er…I stole his hat as a joke. And when he tried to take it off my head, he tripped and I caught him. With my arms. And my biotics. And then…I heard his thoughts." She shrugged.

The operative stared at her for another few seconds, then shook her head. "How very…immature. How long were you and Helmsman Moreau…_touching_…before your amp overloaded?"

Shepard wracked her brain. The kiss had felt like an eternity, which was not nearly long enough. But in reality, it had probably only been a minute? Thirty seconds?

"Only a few seconds. I caught him as he fell, and it was almost instantaneous."

Miranda made another note. "Could you make sense of what he was thinking?"

Unbidden, Joker's vivid thoughts flooded her mind, and she cleared her throat nervously. "Yes. He thinks in French."

"How…interesting. Well, from what you've told me, I can only guess that your amplified biotics allow you to connect on an electrical level with whomever you're touching. Our brains run on neuron impulses; your biotics are acting as a bridge of sorts. What you're experiencing is akin to what asari are able to do when they meld. I surmise it would be easier to do with an accomplished biotic, or someone with whom you have a strong emotional attachment to." Her last few words were punctuated with a tone of suspicion. "I'll pass it along to the science team that was in charge of developing your amp. They may be able to provide us with more information. In the meantime, I can replace the core and change the battery out for something stronger. It may keep it from overloading in the event that you find yourself in a situation where skin contact is…unavoidable."

At that, Chakwas stepped forward and offered Shepard her desk chair. The commander straddled it, leaning her forehead on the back and pulling her hair to the side. Miranda procured a small case from a supply locker. Inside was a row of tiny silver rods the diameter of a AA battery, only a quarter of an inch long. Each had a set of notches, and glowed a subtle blue. They had been treated with eezo, made specifically to sit inside the hollow cylinder of a biotic amp. The minute amount of electricity from the battery provided enough amplification to fully control the currents of mass fields a human produced from biotic nodules in their body.

"The last time we replaced your amp core, you were unconscious, and we did it consecutively when we replaced your entire amp unit. Since you are awake now, I have to warn you that this may tickle a bit."

Using a tool similar to pliers, Miranda disengaged Shepard's amp rod, twisting it counter-clockwise and pulling it out. Shepard felt a tingle travel down her spine, and her arms gripped the back of the chair. Miranda chose a new rod from the case, flipping open the top and placing in a miniscule cylindrical battery.

"When I put the new rod in, you may feel some muscle spasms. I must insist you try to control the initial surge of biotics as your system gets accustomed to the stronger battery."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "I'll try, Miranda."

She felt the operative's hands brushing hair away, and then the sudden sensation of an electrical charge singing through her body. Her spine tightened and she pitched backwards off the chair. Only Chakwas' quick reflexes caught her before the back of her head smacked the floor.

"Easy, Commander. Stand up, that's it." With a steadying hand she sat Shepard back on the chair, Chakwas patting her arm in a motherly fashion. Shepard's entire body was singing with biotic energy, enough to make her hair drift lazily in her own mass field current. She took a deep, steadying breath and visualized the energy dissipating. Slowly, the glow lessened.

"Should I uh…come back another time?"

Joker hovered by the door, looking terrified. All three women rounded on him. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard could see a sly smile spreading across Chakwas' face.

"Hello, Jeff. Come in. We were just assisting the Commander with her biotic amp…issue."

He stepped forward, eyeing Miranda with suspicion. Shepard blew a lock of hair out of her face and rolled her neck.

"Am I supposed to be so…tingly?" she asked, rubbing her hands over her arms. Her extremities felt as if they had fallen asleep.

"It's because the battery is new and more powerful than the last. The sensation will abate as your system acclimates to the new rod." Miranda allowed a small, agitated sight to escape her lips. She snapped the small amp case shut and leveled a serious look at Joker, who shrank back. "Don't make me regret pulling you out of that bar, Helmsman."

With that, she strode from the medbay, boots clicking against metal decking.

Chakwas was the first to break the din. She waved Joker further into the room and pointed to a hospital bed next to Shepard. "Sit down, Jeff. Let's take a look at those legs."

He scowled and sat, reaching down to roll up to unlace his boots. Shepard suddenly felt like an intruder, and stood, slightly wobbly.

"I'll uh…just be leaving. Thank you, Karin. Joker." She gave him a terse nod and fled the medbay, head swimming.

* * *

><p>Joker watched her retreat, his stomach sinking. He walked into the medbay to the sight of her leaning over Chakwas' chair, blonde hair spilling in a mess of gold waves over her arms. Her entire body had lit up as Lawson slid the new amp rod home. It was intimate, almost as if he had walked in on her getting undressed; her prone form swirling with blue and almost hitting the floor before Chakwas had caught her.<p>

"Is she ok?" he asked, pulling off a boot and letting it fall to the floor.

"Oh she'll be fine. Just a little issue with experimental tech. I believe I should be asking _you_ that question. Rumor has it you had an interesting night."

Joker felt his mouth pop open, and he blushed. Chakwas smiled and patted his arm lovingly.

"Don't worry, dear. There were no details shared, other than what was necessary to assess Shepard's amp issue. I do have to say, I'm happy you two finally figured it out."

"_Why_ does everyone keep telling me that?" he muttered, sliding his other boot off and rolling up the legs of his uniform pants.

Chakwas made a tsk-ing noise and smiled as she ran her omnitool over his shins. Cerberus, as part of his contract, had all but replaced his tibia and fibula with a titanium alloy and boneweave. He wore the success as a set of angry red scars running the length of his shins. His femurs were naturally a bit stronger; Cerberus only reinforced the bone. That surgery had been slated to be done orthoscopically by machine, but they found a hairline fracture in his left femur as a result of a particularly bad night of drinking. Instead, they put him under general anesthesia and reinforced both legs with a titanium alloy rod and more boneweave, along with cybernetics to assist his joints. _We have the technology_! He thought to himself as he stared down at his scars. The newer ones were vibrant against the fainter white lines from his previous procedures. As much as he distrusted Cerberus, and the fact he had to learn to walk _again_ (fourth time, to be exact), he was pretty pleased with the outcome - he was exponentially more mobile than he had been before.

_Before_. He scowled, biting his lip. Chakwas was prodding at his patella now, which was sore on a good day. His…excursion with Shepard the night before had left his joints almost screaming; he had woken up to a locked knee, which was just downright annoying.

_We didn't even do anything and I'm sore_, he thought, his scowl deepening. Chakwas must have sensed his discomfort and straightened.

"Your incision site looks like it's healing nicely, Jeff. And the boneweave had integrated with your system just as we had hoped it would. No unwanted calcification or stress fractures. It also looks like you've been doing the stretches I suggested."

Joker rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been spending time in the gym, too."

"Good. Improved muscle density only helps build and protect your bones. Your regulation Alliance gene mods should assist with building more muscle tone, despite the OI. I'm glad to see you taking this seriously, Jeff." She smiled at him warmly. "I assume you've stayed away from alcohol?"

Joker leveled a look at her, feeling the dull sting of anger and shame. Months before, Cerberus brought Chakwas on to oversee his rehabilitation and mental health. Upon her arrival to the station, she had (without his consent) cleaned his apartment, dumping any bottle she found directly down the drain. Of course, after his surgeries, he was too busy with physical therapy and the whole learning how to walk again thing to even _think_ about drinking. In truth, the drinking was a way to just plain forget. He missed the rush he felt when he flew, and the pain in his chest was slightly dulled with every drink. Plus, being piss ass drunk was a fantastic way to pass out and not have crazy dreams. The hangovers were a bitch, but he enjoyed the way his throbbing head distracted him from his aching chest.

Then they broke the news of Shepard being alive. That last hangover was his breaking point.

"Yes, mom. Nothing more than a casual drink or two. And besides…I'm flying again." He shrugged. "I don't _need_ alcohol to feel buzzed."

Unbidden, the image of Shepard's form, swathed in blue light, flashed in his mind. Her lips against his…_that_ was the kind of buzz he could get used to. He found he craved it, badly. It was addicting, second only to flying.

"I know you'll roll your eyes at me, but I am proud of you, Jeff. And I'm happy for you. Both of you." She blinked a few times, her eyes getting misty.

"Doc, don't get all mushy on me now. It's not like we're getting married. Jeeze." He scratched at his beard.

"Oh hush. Now stand up so I can check your spine."

He obliged, sliding off the bed carefully and straightening up as much as his back would allow. Which, after months of intensive physical therapy, was pretty damn straight. His dependence on crutches had left him with significant muscle weakness up until his enlistment. He was able to get the standard Alliance gene modifications on the government's dime, which meant muscles that toned and stayed that way with a lot of hard work. He pulled off his uniform shirt and turned. Chakwas prodded down the length of his spine with her fingers, making soft humming noises as she worked through the checklist on her omnitool. Her hands made it to his lower back, and she tsk'd.

"Have you been using the lumbar support on your chair? I had Cerberus install it specifically to counteract the long bouts of sitting."

"Yes, mom. If I'm tense, blame the AI. All that chattering makes it hard for me to concentrate."

Chakwas chuckled and shook her head.

"You're doing well. Keep it up. Now, off to breakfast with you."

"Thanks, doc." He donned his shirt and began pulling his boots back on, relishing his increased range of motion. He could bend all the way down to tie his own laces _without_ an excruciating amount of pain. Even the act of drawing his knees of to his chest was new and exciting.

"Jeff."

"Yeah, doc?" Joker straightened up and slid off the bed. Chakwas had migrated to her desk, and was looking at him from over a datapad.

"She's alone, and scared. Just be there for her, and the rest will come."

Joker tugged his hat straighter. The soft smell of lavender and peony shampoo still clung to the fabric. He felt his face soften.

"I know."

Shepard wasn't in the mess hall when Joker emerged from the medbay. Several Cerberus crew were milling around or talking over trays filled with food. He sidled up to Gardener with his own tray.

"Did the commander come through?" he asked, grimacing slightly as the mess sergeant gave him a serving of runny eggs.

"No, haven't seen her yet this morning," he answered. Joker motioned for another tray.

"I'll take food to her. Biotic helping, obviously."

Gardener smirked and muttered _"brown noser" _before serving him a double helping of food.

Joker carefully balanced the two trays as he shuffled towards the elevator, mindful of the uneven deck plates.

"EDI, where is the commander?"

The AI's orb flickered to life next to the elevator.

"The commander is in her quarters. Shall I alert her that you are on your way up?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The elevator on the SR-2 wasn't any faster than the previous _Normandy's_, and Joker felt his back begin to tense as he held the trays awkwardly away from his body. Shepard's door lock was green as he approached, and hissed open at his proximity.

He had never been in her quarters, and only knew the layout from the surveillance cameras. Of course, within hours of her arrival on the ship, Shepard had disabled any and all bugs in her cabin. Currently, she was curled on the corner of her couch, omnitool out and projecting what looked like a sports cast from Earth. Joker cleared his throat awkwardly, not passing the threshold.

"You can come in," she said softly, not looking up from the vid projection. Joker made his way carefully down the stairs and set a tray down on the coffee table in front of her.

"Gardner said you didn't eat, so I uh…yeah. Food."

"Thanks, Joker. Sit down."

The couch was large and U-shaped, and she had taken the middle corner for herself. He settled at the end, resting his tray on his lap. She was wearing a faded Oxford University hooded sweatshirt and soft black leggings. Her blonde curls were pulled into a knot at the top of her head, and she was wearing _glasses_.

"I thought Alliance had gene mods to correct eye problems," Joker said, tucking into his scrambled eggs.

"They do," she answered, unclipping her omnitool and setting it on the table so she could use both hands to eat. The vid continued to project in front of them. "When Cerberus…fixed me, they replaced by optics with cybernetics and used stem cells to regenerate my eyes. Since I woke up sooner than Miranda had originally planned, they haven't fully finished integrating. Small tasks, like watching a vid or cleaning my guns, requires some assistance. In a few weeks they should be back to normal." She shrugged and took a bite of something that Joker guessed was hash browns.

"What are you watching?" He motioned towards the vid with his fork.

"Reminiscing on how _I _used to fly." She gave him a small smile as his eyebrows disappeared beneath the brim of his hat.

"What?"

She raised a hand and expanded the vid screen until the picture hovered over the entire coffee table. It was an Earth sports cast, several years old (maybe ten, if Joker had to guess by the vid quality and graphic overlays), that showed a huge arena filled with large, brightly colored fences. The camera panned to show a rider on a bay horse, circling until a bell sounded. The first fence loomed as horse and rider galloped towards it. Almost effortlessly, they were over the fence and on towards the next.

"You a fan?" he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She merely smiled and motioned towards the screen.

A graphic across the bottom announced "**RIDER**: C. SHEPARD **MOUNT**: KOO KOO KACHOO **FAULTS**: 0" along with a time clock.

"Holy shit," he muttered, mouth going dry._  
><em>

Shepard snorted and dug into her food with gusto, eyes never leaving the vid screen.

_Just another thing she's ridiculously good at. Public speaking, team building, biotics, killing,_ kissing...He realized he was staring at her, and felt a flush creep up his neck. _Take a picture, Jeff. Jesus. _He sat thoughtfully for a moment before chuckling. "Koo koo kachoo? The Beatles? _Really?_"

She rolled her eyes at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "His barn name is Lennon. He's retired now, living out the remainder of his life fat and happy. I argued with my trainer over that name for months before we made it official on paper. Apparently, some people believe it's "goo goo g'joob", but that just didn't look as nice when we spelled it out."

Joker watched as the on screen Shepard and her mount navigated an oxer. It did indeed look as if she were flying; the spread was such that they were suspended in the air for seconds at a time. He marveled at the athleticism of human and equine alike; over the jumps, she was balanced with just her lower legs, throwing her hands forward to let the horse reach with his neck.

"I've never ridden a horse. Actually, I've never _seen_ a horse in person."

"Spacer boy."

"Ouch, my feelings!" he clutched at his chest jokingly, leaning back against the couch. The sudden movement unbalanced his tray, and his fork clattered to the floor. His lower lip shot out in a pout. "Now look what you made me do!"

She snorted. With eyes still on the screen, she lifted the utensil biotically from the floor and set it upright in his food. "Five second rule."

Throwing large enemies across the battlefield with her mind was one thing. But to exert such exact control over small items was a skilled honed over time. Joker briefly took a moment to appreciate her abilities before he resumed shoving his face full of now lukewarm food.

"How tall are the jumps?" he asked conversationally between bites. She had brought up a new vid with a flick of her fingers.

"One point six meters."

Joker did the mental math and choked. "They're taller than you!"

She turned to scowl at him. "I'm five four, thank you very much."

"Uh huh," he said, placing his empty tray on the coffee table and crossing his arms over his chest. "So, how long have you been riding for?"

Shepard paused the vid and brought up a still image of a little girl on a white pony, wearing jodhpurs and a grey hunt coat. Blonde braided pigtails ended in huge pink bows that hung down her back under a black helmet. The familiar smattering of freckles was present across the bridge of her nose.

_Holy shit she was adorable._

"I was five when I started showing. My dad bought me my first small pony after my trainer told him I showed incredible talent and could potentially make a career out of it. I _think_ they hoped buying me a pony would eventually lead to me getting sick of riding." She giggled and turned an adorable shade of pink. "This was Pilot. His show name was 'Colorful Actions'."

Joker gaped at her.

"I don't even have words for that," he said, shaking his head in mock indignation. Shepard smiled.

"Did I just render Jeff 'Blabbermouth' Moreau speechless?" She had turned on the couch to face him, legs crossed and hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt. Seeing her out of armor and uniform was a rarity, and Joker tried to memorize every part of her relaxed appearance. She was stunningly beautiful, even in the most simple attire. Her expression was open and happy, adding to her playful attitude. Joker felt a pang of nervousness press against his chest. _Why are you being so nice to me? I killed you. I don't deserve this affection from you._ Guilt crashed through him, and he felt his own good mood slip.

"You wound me, Commander."

Her mouth twisted in the smallest of grimaces at the sound of her title. An awkward silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the soft noises of her fish tank filter. Joker's knee was protesting at its current position, and he shifted it until his foot was resting on the coffee table. He rubbed the sore joint and scowled.

"I'm sorry, about last night," she whispered.

Joker sucked in a breath as his heart clenched. _See? She regrets it. Why did you even bother getting your hopes up. _"What are you sorry for?" he asked, trying to meet her eyes.

"I put you in a bad position, Joker. I'm your commander. I'm your _boss_."

_Ah, British morals. _Her voice had a hard edge, and he stiffened defensively. "What? We're not Alliance anymore, Shepard. And besides, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I do. And you know it."

"Whatever." He made a dismissive motion with his hand, feeling his temper flare. She had been so open and willing the night before, her mind a beautiful assortment of vibrant thoughts tinged with the scarlet edge of passion. Now, in the aftermath, she was pulling herself closed again. And if Joker knew anything about putting up walls, he could see the mortar already beginning to set.

She gave him a look, one that made him grit his teeth. He scowled, grabbing his empty tray and heaving himself from the couch. He was not awake or caffeinated enough to discuss fraternization regulations. This conversation was going nowhere fast, and he had a ship to fly.

"Duty calls," he supplied simply, and shuffled out the door.

As it hissed closed, he caught her soft "_Goddamnit"_. In the solitude of the elevator, he leaned his head against the door and sighed.

_Good job, Jeff. Good fucking job._

* * *

><p>"Can I keep him?"<p>

Shepard was flushed and breathless, having just won a pissing match with the tank-bred krogan. He had named himself "Grunt", and after he released Shepard from a headlock, had offered her his loyalty.

Now seated comfortably in her quarters, Garrus stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

"So, let me get this straight. You went down and let a krogan out of its tank, by yourself. You let him name himself, and then offered him room and board? The next thing I know, you'll be teaching him to shoot things and putting his finger paintings up on the cryo unit."

Shepard snorted and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Her turian gunnery officer had all but sprinted to her quarters after Joker comm'd him regarding the "freed krogan was choking Shepard". He had been too late to intervene, but intercepted her at the loft. Now, he was lounging in the corner of her couch, hands tucked behind his head.

"He's just a baby, Garrus. He needs guidance. And besides, this is a fantastic opportunity for me to teach. He _wants_ to learn. And he's pure krogan. He isn't Wrex, but I'm not complaining."

The turian rolled his eyes and took a sip of brandy. Shepard had remembered his favorite, and kept a bottle stashed in her quarters. She was nursing a glass of white wine, which had worked its way into her system, leaving her cheeks rosy.

"Alright. So all joking aside…"

"I don't want to talk about the Joker issue, Garrus."

He snapped his teeth together in a grin, mandibles flexing against his face. "Damn woman. You're still sharp."

"And you're still predictable."

His features softened slightly, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on armored thighs. "You can't keep blaming Alliance regs, Clem. You're not Alliance anymore. It's an argument that doesn't hold up."

"It's something that's just deeply imbued in me. I had it pretty much driven into my skull back when I first enlisted. And I saw my parents and what their relationship was like, always serving on different ships, never being home at the same time. I don't know if I want that. That's…that's not a healthy relationship."

Garrus stared at the ceiling for a minute, as if searching it for his patience. When he leveled his eyes on her, they were filled with a sadness that made her breath catch.

"You didn't see him, Clem. After you died. It was like...he had lost his soul. Kaiden told me that when they pulled him from the rescue pod, he had shattered almost every bone in both his arms _and_ hands. He was still pounding on the door when they got him out, screaming your name." A shiver ran down the turian's lean frame, and his eyes suddenly focused on middle distance. "I saw him, at your memorial. Well, I smelled him before I saw him. He had a flask of some foul liquor tucked into the pocket of his dress blues, and he looked like he hadn't slept in months. They had him in a wheelchair; he was too drunk to stand. I tried to talk to him, afterwards. He didn't say anything. And that's what I knew something was wrong. Joker, quiet? Something died in him, with you. He's still not one hundred percent, and neither are you." Garrus sighed, and reached over to pull her towards him. "You died, and we were _all_ lost. But Joker? They _grounded_ him. I think that was the breaking point."

She laid her head on his shoulder, biting the inside of her lip to keep the tears from falling. He pushed a stray curl out of her face and gave her a sad smile.

"If we died tomorrow, what would you regret, Clem? Would you regret blaming some stupid human rule for keeping you from loving someone? I know you better than that."

She took a sip of wine, pondering his words. Her respect for Alliance regulations _was_ deeply instilled in her. More than once her parents (separately, of course, because rarely were they ever together at the same time) told her never to get involved with a fellow soldier. As her career progressed, and she became an officer, it was expressly forbidden to become involved with anyone below her or above her. She had done a fair amount of exploration during boarding school and the Academy, but her relationship -and even sexual liaisons in general- had been few and far between as she progress through ICT. Spec ops training had been a relationship in and of itself. Her relative inexperience in all things intimate pressed heavily against her conscious.

"He had a shore leave girl," she said quietly around the lip of her wine glass. She didn't meet Garrus' eye, and the turian snorted.

"And a platinum Fornax membership. Are you saying that matters?"

"When you're basically a virgin, yes. Yes, it does."

Garrus reeled his head back in surprise.

"You're pulling my teeth."

Shepard scowled at him and pulled away from his embrace, crossing her legs and shoving her free hand in the pocket of her sweatshirt where her fidgeting wouldn't give her away.

"I went to an all-girl boarding school, and the straight to the military academy. After I graduated there, I enlisted. Boot camp was six weeks, and then I was deployed several times. And then there was N training. Not really a lot of time for intimacy, unless you count how intimate I got with my armor during ICT. Closer to me than any lover ever has been."

"Ok. That makes sense. But you're not a _virgin_."

"No." She blushed and took another hurried sip of wine. "And before you ask, I like men."

Garrus chuckled.

"I actually wasn't going to ask that question, but now you need to elaborate."

"There's a common misconception back on Earth that girls who attend boarding school 'explore' their sexual curiosities with each other, due to a lack of the opposite gender."

"I think that was an article in Fornax last month…"

She smacked his shoulder.

"Alright, alright!" he exclaimed, laughing. "So pointless Alliance regs aside, you're scared because you're 'inexperienced'?"

When he said it out loud, it sounded stupid. She blushed. "I'm worried that I'm not what he needs, you know? I'm not even all _human_ anymore." A small shiver ran down her spine. "And I'm sure anyone with a platinum Fornax membership has specific…tastes. I don't think I can be that person."

Garrus leaned forward and butted his forehead against hers in an affectionate gesture.

"Stop it. Now you're reaching."

Shepard giggled and pulled her hair from its knot on top of her head, letting it fall down past her breasts where it curled against the logo of her sweatshirt. She would never admit it out loud, but the lack of hair regulations outside the military made her happy. Her blonde locks were the longest they had been in almost sixteen years. Garrus caught a curl between his fingers and twisted, making it tickle her nose.

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" she asked, staring into her wine glass.

"Incredibly." He leaned back and tapped at the side of his visor. Her omnitool beeped, and she pulled her arm out of her sweatshirt pocket.

"Why did you just send me a message?"

"Open it."

She complied, and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. The image was obviously taken by his visor; it was almost an eagle's eye view. Her prone form was nestled in Joker's lap, his hat low over her eyes, her head resting on his chest. His hair was a mess where he had obviously run a hand through it nervously. The picture had caught him as he was tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, looking down at her with a soft smile. It was incredibly intimate, but she found she wasn't mad at Garrus for taking it. Not when it was showing her what she had been trying to hard to deny.

"Do you see now, Clem?" his voice was gentle, almost a whisper.

Not taking her eyes off the picture, she nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. He reached over and ran a gloved thumb across her face, wiping the moisture away.

"Don't discount something like that. People go looking for that kind of love and never find it. You already know I'd follow you into hell. He would too, but you've got to give him the chance to tell you."

"When did you get so smart, Vakarian?" She stared at him through soggy lashes.

His gave her a sad chuckle and pulled her back against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"I've always been this smart, Shepard. You just never listened."

* * *

><p><em>Footnotes: <em>There are no translations needed, but I would like to note that "colorful actions" is aviation slang for fancy maneuvers and disregarding safe flying regulations. Pure Joker, in my opinion.


	5. V: Sky from a Ship

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:

Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!

Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.

Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

Excerpt from "I Remember You As You Were" by Pablo Neruda

* * *

><p>V: Sky From a Ship<p>

"You're flying again?"

Gunny's voice was slightly tinny through the tightband connection, but Joker didn't mind. Just hearing a voice from home was a soothing balm. He had her vid call projecting on the bridge; it was either that or use one of the common terminals in the crew quarters. He and his sister hadn't spoken for about six months. She was fast approaching her sixteenth birthday, and looking like their mother more and more every time he saw her.

"Even better ship this time around," he quipped, leaning back in his chair and tucking his hands behind his head. "Although don't ask me what we're doing or where we're going; it's classified."

Gunny pouted a bit at that, and Joker came to the immediate conclusion that it was a shared gesture amongst females. _It looks better on Shepard._

"I'm just glad to see you happy. Dad's been nervous ever since we came to visit you the last time. You _really_ should try to answer his messages more. He cares, you know. So do I."

Joker sighed and ran a hand along his beard. They had visited him on the Citadel shortly before Cerberus had contracted him out. At that point in time, he had been tunneling lower than rock bottom, sobering up long enough to spend a few days in a semblance of normalcy. His father wasn't as easy to convince as Gunny was; Louis had found his booze stash while Joker and Gunny had been at a movie. There had been a long, serious talk after she went to bed that night, one that still made Joker grimace in shame. "I'm sorry. I really am. I've just been so busy."

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Just try a little harder, and we'll forgive you. Oh, hi!"

She was waving at someone past his shoulder, and Joker turned in time to see Shepard ducking out of the camera's range. Clad in what he now knew was her "ready for bed or filing a ridiculous amount of reports" outfit (sweatshirt, leggings, glasses, and her hair in a knot on top of her head), she blushed at her intrusion. "I'm sorry Joker, I heard you talking to someone, but I didn't think you were on a call. I can come back later."

"No it's ok, it's just Gunny. Say hi."

Ignoring her protests, he pulled her over next to his chair and sat her on the arm.

"Gunny, this is Clemen-"

"Clementine Shepard! Holy _crap_ Jeff you're flying with her again?" Gunny's face split into a wide grin and she leaned closer to her camera. "Oh wow. Where are my manners. I'm sorry, Commander. Hilary Moreau, Jeff's _perfect_ little sister."

Shepard smiled down at Joker and then at Gunny on the vid screen. She kicked her slippers off, pulling her feet up and sliding them under his thigh for balance. He stiffened a bit at the unexpected contact. _Oh? Oh. Ok? Gunny is gonna _love_ this. _

"Please, call me Clementine. Joker's mentioned you, of course. He said you're interested in attending flight school?"

"Yeah! It seems as if flying runs in the family. I don't think I'd cut it as a foot soldier…not enough stamina. But I spent last summer putting in hours towards a civilian flight license for private charters. I'm about 360 away from passing."

Joker felt a swelling of pride at his sister's dedication.

"I can't fly worth a damn, but that's what I have Joker for." Shepard gave her a lopsided grin.

"That's an understatement_,_" he muttered under his breath. It won him a jab in the ribs.

"This may be an inappropriate question, Com-…Clementine. But I uh…I thought you were dead?"

Joker wanted to reach through he vid screen and smack her on the back of the head, but Shepard merely laughed. "It's classified, but let's just say I was doing deep cover work for two years."

Her lie came easily, and he was grateful she had skipped over the true story. Explaining to Gunny that he was working for a pro-human terrorist organization would be a little difficult. Explaining that his commander had indeed _died_ and was brought back to life by the aforementioned terrorist organization would be even trickier. Gunny's eyes grew wide for a moment. "Wow. That's so cool. And it's cool you guys are working together again!" Her eyes flitted back and forth between him and Shepard, and a sly smile spread across her face. Joker narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"_Vous et lui?_" Gunny asked saucily.

Joker groaned and ran a hand across his face. "_Elle parle français, sœur. Vous faites un âne de vous-même_." _And here we go._

Gunny clapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks reddening. "Insert foot into mouth. Sorry."

Shepard snorted. "_C'est ok_. I just found out French was his native tongue. You _almost_ had me there."

Joker rubbed a thumb along the small of her back, silently thanking her for being so tactful. She smiled down at him.

"Did you get dad's message about him and Marin?"

"About the wedding?" he answered. "Yeah. Look, Gunny, I don't think I can make it. I don't know what our schedule is like and-"

"Who's wedding?" Shepard interjected, her brows knitted together.

Joker sighed. "My dad is getting remarried in a few weeks. He and Marin have been together for about seven years now. They're going to have a wedding on Tiptree. It's not a big deal if I don't make it. He'll understand."

_He'll understand when we stop the Collectors_. He hadn't said it out loud, but the look on Shepard's face told him she heard the real meaning. A flicker of worry passed across her eyes, but it was gone before he had a chance to dwell on it. Instead, her jaw set in a way he was all too familiar with, and he shook his head. "No."

"Yes, Joker. You're going. I'll make sure of it." She turned to Gunny. "Send me the information, and I'll make sure to get him there in time. This is my comm number." She held her omnitool up to the screen so his sister could write down the code.

"It's good to see someone who is immune to his particular brand of charm," Gunny said. "I look forward to seeing you _in person_, Jeff. I'll let Dad know to expect you as well. Thanks, Clementine. I'm sure my dad and Marin will appreciate it, too. Hey!" Her face lit up. "Jeff, why don't you bring Clementine as your plus one? Then you won't look like such a loser, especially with _Commander Shepard_ as your date."

"Gunny, shut up. Shepard has more important things to do than go to a wedding."

"What's the dress code?" Shepard asked, bringing up the invite on her omnitool. Gunny had obviously already sent it to her. _Women._

"Black tie. They're getting married at a house designed by one of my dad's coworker's, and half of his firm will be there. And Marin is from Bekenstein, so her family will be there too. That means you'll have to get a tux, Jeff."

Joker suddenly wanted to bang his head against something very, very hard, and was regretting involving Shepard in the conversation.

"I don't need a monkey suit. I'll wear my dress blues."

"You will not," Shepard interjected, staring at him as if he had suggested she dance naked on the Presidium. "Kasumi can help us the next time we're somewhere civilized."

Joker groaned and let his head fall back against the headrest. While the prospect of attending a wedding in a tux sounded about as fun as babysitting a varren, the prospect of attending said wedding with Shepard was something he could _possibly_ find himself looking forward to.

"So it's settled then." Gunny clapped her hands together and grinned. "I'll let Dad know you're coming with a plus one. But I think I'm going to leave who it is as a surprise." Gunny's eyes twinkled. "Clementine, just send me an RSVP with your dinner choices when you get a chance. I should probably go, it's late here and I have an exam tomorrow."

"I will. Thanks for letting me know. And it was nice to 'meet' you." Shepard punctuated her sentence with air quotes.

"It's always good to find someone who has a mutual affection for torturing Jeff," his sister replied. She settled her gaze on Joker. "I'm glad you called, though. I miss you. Don't give me that look."

He had been scowling at the vid screen, and Shepard smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"_Je t'aime_, Jeff. I'll see you in a few weeks. You too, Clementine."

"_Je t'aime aussi_," he replied quietly, and disconnected the call.

The silence settled on them, and he suddenly realized her proximity. She had been avoiding him for days, and suddenly she was in his space. _Really_ in his space. He cleared his throat nervously.

"She's a lot like you," Shepard said quietly, staring at the flight console.

"She's more like my mom, really. A lot more caring than I am."

"Don't discount yourself so much, Jeff. You're more caring that you give yourself credit for."

Her position on the arm of his chair made it difficult for him to lean away from her, so he instead tilted his head up to look her in the eye. A frown was playing on the edges of her mouth, her eyes sad. He wanted to reach up and run his thumb along her lips, but resisted.

The silence stretched between them, and he held her gaze with his, unwavering. The space between them wound tight like a rubber band, tensing with each passing moment. Tentatively, he saw her reach a hand out, and felt it light against his neck, above the collar of his uniform. The tension snapped, and he felt the pull of her fear and need as it absorbed into his psyche. He covered his hand with hers, not breaking eye contact, and let her feel his emotions. It was effortless, like sinking into a hot bath or sliding into cool sheets. There were no thoughts, just the raw interplay of feelings. Her eyelids fluttered as her body eddied with blue currents of energy. She was controlling the flow now, touching just the surface of their minds. Her lips parted and she exhaled softly, letting her chin fall against her chest.

"I am a terrible liar," she whispered, eyes closed. "I can try to deny it, but this…this feels like home."

His breath caught, and he released the hand on her neck to cradle her head in his hands. As soon as his hands connected with skin, there was a tug on the back of his mind, threatening to undo him. He touched the calm meditative state he slipped into when he flew, and pulled at it, using it as a buffer. This moment was precious, and fragile, and he wanted it to last. His throat was choked with an overload of emotion, and he struggled to find the words.

"I don't deserve you, Clementine."

She opened her mouth to retort, and he shook his head once.

"I don't deserve you. And I can't force you to put aside your morals. I may be an asshole, but I'm not _that_ selfish." There was a small hint of bubbly amusement passing between them, and he smiled. "A lot of things have happened to you in the past. Take your time. I'll be here."

With that, he leaned back, severing the connection, dropping his hands back in his lap. She leaned back, tucking her own hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt, and gave him the smallest of smiles.

"Thank you, Jeff." She shuffled her feet out from under his thigh and swung off the chair. "Now, I need to go and mentally prepare myself for Kasumi's party. As soon as we hit Bekenstein, geosynch to those coordinates I gave you. We'll be taking the shuttle down to a transportation station and renting a sky car." She paused, as if wanting to say more, but bit her lip and turned to walk down the gangway.

"Aye aye, Commander."

With one last fleeting glance over her shoulder, she disappeared into the dim CIC.

* * *

><p>Kasumi hovered above her as she sat at the edge of her bed, eyes closed. The thin silk robe did little to warm her against the cold recycled air of her cabin, and she rubbed her hands over her arms, fighting back the gooseflesh.<p>

"Hold still, Shep," Kasumi chided. "I'm almost done, and then you can get dressed."

The thief had been working on her appearance for Hock's party for over two hours, weaving her mess of curls into a soft updo, outlining her eyes with dark kohl. The black dress was laid ceremoniously on the bed next to her, and Shepard glanced at it apprehensively. It looked a full size too small, and _short_. Shorter than anything she had in her own personal wardrobe.

"Ok. Finished!" Kasumi stepped back and placed a finger on her partially hidden cheek, contemplating. "I have to say, you clean up nicely. Much better than those snooty photos I've seen of you at Alliance social gatherings. Whoever agreed that polyester was a staple fabric needs to be shot. Now. Get dressed. Hurry hurry. I'll meet you at the bridge."

Shepard reeled her head back in confusion. "The bridge? Why the bridge? We're taking the shuttle down."

Kasumi gave her a wicked smile. "You don't want Joker to miss you all dressed up, do you?" Shepard flushed. "That's what I thought," the little thief continued, and skipped up the stairs to the door. "By the way, that dress is much too tight for undergarments. See ya in a bit!" With that, she disappeared out the door, leaving Shepard gaping.

She eyed the garment in question, pulling it off the hanger and shimmying out of her robe. As she slid the fabric up over her hips, she had to agree with Kasumi; it was skin tight, clinging to every swell on her body. The sleeves ended at her wrists, and the hem stopped at mid-thigh. The neckline was high, coming to rest just below her collarbones, but the back made up for it. It was open down to just above the top of her tailbone. Even with her front completely covered, she felt exposed.

"Damnit, Kasumi. How am I supposed to fit a gun under this?"

The dress would be a one-time garment, but she could see herself keeping the shoes. Four inch black heels that made her feel incredibly tall, with oversized velvet bows at each ankle. She stood carefully, finding her balance. It had been years since she the last time she had to totter around on the balls of her feet, and she knew they would be screaming by the end of the night.

Walking to the head, she studied her face in the mirror. _What do you see when you look at me, Joker?_ The pilot had been surprisingly serious after their conversation with Gunny.

_I don't deserve you..._

She had been taken aback by that. Cool, confident, snarky Joker nervously proclaiming his feelings for her and pushing her away in the same breath. _What's that saying? A riddle wrapped in an enigma inside of a mystery? _There was clearly some deeper thought process to his dismissal of his justification. She normally had to wade through his biting snark to find the true meaning behind anything he said. Bare feelings from him were an anomaly, and she didn't quite know how to handle it.

_I'm not going to push him_, she decided grimly. A large part of her brain had decided it was best to let things happen organically. She doubted he would outright tell her he wanted her, other than the brief admission of him simply _being_ there for her, if she wanted. It was enough, for now. _No need to overload yourself with emotion, Joker. _She snorted, rolling her eyes at the reflection in the mirror. Kasumi had done a decent job with her hair and makeup.

_A little shameless flirting won't hurt,_ she told herself, feeling slightly better about her outfit.

Cautiously, she made her way up the stairs to the elevator, biting the inside of her lip as she acclimated to the confinement of the dress. How she was supposed to fight in this, she didn't know, but she decided to push that worry aside and concentrate on my pressing issues, such as calming her nerves as the elevator made it's way up to the CIC.

A few of her crew gawked as she strode past them, including Kelly Chambers. The red-haired woman's jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide.

"Commander, you look…wow."

Shepard quirked a smile and hurried her pace towards the gangway.

Kasumi was nowhere in sight when she reached the bridge, which didn't mean to say she wasn't present. The back of Joker's chair faced her, and she leaned against a bulkhead, watching his hands move across the haptic interface. He was nosing the _Normandy _into geosynch, Bekenstein a shimmering globe of lights kilometers below them. She loved watching him at work; he could go from witty to utterly focused in a split second. He was aware of her presence, but was running an orbital calculation in his head. Of course, EDI could do it for him, but she knew he preferred to do it himself and have the AI check his work.

"Geosycned with the coordinates, Commander. Shuttle should be ready for…" He spun his chair to face her and stopped mid sentence, clutching the armrests. "You look…wow. _Wow_."

"I look like a tart, Joker," she said, pushing off the bulkhead and walking towards him. "You don't have to lie."

She knew Kasumi had chosen the dress mainly to make her unrecognizable; the Commander Shepard before death wouldn't have even given the garment a second look on the hangar. But always tactful, the dress with its long sleeves hid the worse of her reconstructions scars. She wore them everywhere on her body, but the worst covered her arms and torso. A few crisscrossed her back, but Kasumi had assured her it only added to the mystique that was Allison Gunn. The thief had altered the lines of her face with makeup as well. Her cheekbones were more prominent, her brows darkened and thickened. Her eyes were rimmed with kohl and dusted with the darkest of grey shadows.

"Are you wearing colored contacts?" Joker asked, leaning forward as she approached his chair.

"Ever observant you are, helmsman. I can hide beneath a painted face, but _heterochromia iridum_ is pretty uncommon. I get to be a plain ol' brown-eyed member of high society tonight."

Joker gave her a rueful smile as his own eyes roved greedily over her body. She had never been one to flaunt herself, and a part of her _supposed_ she should feel violated. But his intent gaze was sending a delicious chill down her spine, which had nothing to do with the cut of her dress.

"Hmmm. I prefer them the way they are. You're not going to make this a permanent thing, are you?"

"Definitely not. My cybernetics are not a fan of the contacts, and neither am I."

She could tell he wanted to reach out and touch her, so she obliged, walking forward until her shins hit the footrest of his chair. Even seated, he cut a dashing figure in uniform, even if it was Cerberus. Years of his reliance on crutches sculpted his shoulders and arms into impressively broad muscle. In the two years she was gone, he had filled out even more, his back straighter and proud. He held himself with more pride than before, and his gait had become almost unhindered. Shepard knew him and Jacob had been working out together down in the _Normandy's_ makeshift gym, and it showed.

He looked up at her from his chair, a soft flush spreading across his cheeks. Chastened as he had been several hours before, now he held her gaze with a burning intensity. Tentatively, she ran a hand down his arm, stopping where the sleeves of his uniform were cuffed. Boldened by her proximity, Joker curled his fingers around the curve of her hip, sliding down the line of her leg until his pinky finger reached the hem.

"This dress is something else," he said, voice husky. "Turn around."

She obliged, spinning lightly on the balls of her feet. Even facing away from him, she heard his sharp intake of breath at the now-exposed expanse of skin. His hands settled lightly back on her hips, tracing the edges of fabric clinging to her back. Her spine tingled as his hands spun her back around, never straying from the hem, and she itched for him to touch her flesh.

"I have a feeling you're not carrying a gun on you?" he quipped.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." She gave him a coy shrug. He continued his exploration, his thumbs skimming across the tops of her thighs, moving slowly upwards towards their apex. She had seen him fly more times than she could count, and had always marveled at the dexterity of his hands. Now, with said hands _on_ her, a number of delicious scenarios began playing out in her mind. The now familiar feeling of need began to build in her belly, a wave of desire crashing over her as his hands once more found her hips.

"Holy shit," he breathed, leaning his head back against the chair and squeezing his eyes closed. A darker flush had spread across his cheeks and neck, creeping below the collar of his uniform. "You're not wearing any underwear, are you?"

She had been momentarily distracted by his explorations, and at his words suddenly became _very_ aware of her wonton state. The proof of her own arousal was slick at the apex of her thighs, and she squeezed her legs together. She peered down at him through her lashes and nodded.

"_Fuck._ It's a good thing I'll have nothing to do for the next few hours except sit here. Thinking about you in this dress. With no underwear. And maybe a hidden gun somewhere."

"No guns, Shep," came Kasumi's voice from behind them. The thief shimmered into view and Joker promptly dropped his hands back in his lap, flushing an even brighter shade of red. "Hock is all about security."

Shepard turned to face Kasumi, fighting to assemble her face back into the calm, collected Commander mask.

"We're going to break into Hock's vault unarmed?"

"Of course not! We're sneaking in your armor and weapons to be used at a later time. I have it all planned out." Kasumi leveled her gaze on Joker, a rueful smile spreading across the unhooded portion of her face. "I take it you approve of our commander's evening wear?"

The pilot raised an eyebrow at her in response. "Is that some sort of trick question?"

Kasumi giggled and waved a hand at him dismissively. "If you think this is good, wait until you see what I have in mind for your father's wedding."

Joker looked as if he may internally combust, and Shepard laid a hand on the side of his neck in a quick goodbye, sending a flicker of her arousal to him. A hint of insecurity clutched at her chest, and she tamped it down. He would be back to his normal snarky self when they returned - unless he managed to hack into Hock's surveillance system. Part of her knew he had a hidden stash of vid stills somewhere in his private files, and a bigger part of her knew he would be adding quite a few more to the collection tonight.

"Alright, enough ogling the Commander. Duty calls, Shep!"

Kasumi linked her arm through Shepard's, pulling her down the gangway to the CIC. Shepard felt Joker's eyes on her until the elevator doors snicked shut behind them.

* * *

><p>Joker groaned and shifted in his chair, trying but failing at finding a more comfortable position. The sight of Shepard in <em>that dress<em> had him instantly hard, and his arousal pressed against his pants uncomfortably.

"Your heart rate and stress levels have increased, Mr. Moreau. Are you in distress?" EDI flashed to his left, blue holo orb illuminating the bridge.

"Yeah, something like that," he answered, shuffling in his seat. He needed a distraction. "EDI, see if you have any luck hacking into this Hock guy's surveillance. We should uh, keep an eye on the Commander. Make sure she doesn't run into any trouble."

Shepard sans armor left him essentially blind, hundreds of kilometers above the planet. He wouldn't be able to monitor their progress or her biosigns unless he found a way past Donovan Hock's firewalls. Muttering under his breath, he brought up several vid screens as EDI began running a hacking program.

"I am fairly impressed with the quality of these encryptions. They are almost a challenge." The AI sounded smug as several vids flickered on, showing various corners of an impressive mansion. Joker disliked piggybacking on surveillance; more often than not the cameras were immobile, and he would have to triangulate several different angles to get a decent idea of what was happening planetside. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and he settled back in his chair, flipping through several different cameras.

Joker had known Clementine Shepard for almost four years, and had followed her career even before serving with her on the SR-1. Never in a million years did he expect to see her attend a party in anything less than Alliance dress blues. Seeing her in that tiny black dress was better than any scenario his mind could cook up. Shepard was, out of armor, a commanding presence, a staunch professional and incredibly gifted at building a team. In armor, she was a force to be reckoned with; deadly biotic precision honed to absolute perfection. Shepard in that black dress was something else entirely. She looked dark and dangerous, fabric hugging every single curve. In the bridge light, Joker could make out every single swell on her body. He ached to trace a thumb along the underside of her breasts, to run his hands down her legs. Her makeup altered her appearance enough that she appeared sultry and _dangerous_. He wished there had been no need for the colored contacts. Her eyes had a hypnotic quality to them that was lost under the brown-pigmented lenses.

Their relationship rested on a thin fulcrum; he had done something he had never fathomed doing, and laid his feelings out on the table for her. Briefly, he recalled his middle school girlfriend; they had held hands in the hallways of the little school on Arcturus, before her family relocated to a different base. That had been the closest semblance of a relationship he had been in, which made him blush. Everything else had been flings for purely physical purposes. Shepard's file indicated no serious relationships during her enlistment, and Joker hadn't been surprised. Spec ops training was brutal on a slow day, and Shepard had progressed up to the N7 designation. She was an elite member of the Alliance military, rising from enlisted to officer in an absurdly short amount of time. Even aboard the SR-1, with ensigns and Alenko practically throwing themselves at her feet, she faced it with an aloofness that rivaled naivety, but Joker knew better. She was observant enough to realize the innuendos and invitations flung at her over the duration of their mission. Scuttlebutt had it that Alenko even approached Shepard during their trek to Ilos, and she shot him down. The sentinel had survived Vermire, and continued to gravel at the commander's feet up until her death. Joker tapped his fingers against the armrests of his chair. He hadn't heard from Kaiden since their dressing down by the Alliance brass. The same dressing down that had grounded Joker. He scowled at the unpleasant memory.

Kasumi and Shepard hadn't made it to Hock's estate yet, so Joker busied himself with orbital calculations, double-checking their position on Bekenstien's gravity well. Math soothed him. Formulas, algorithms, numbers; they were all part of the bigger picture that was flying. Flight school taught new recruits to reexamine their bodily orientations; flying in zero g meant there was no up or down, but rather an infinite grid of space on an x, y and z-axis. Coordinates took them from point a to point b, but combat maneuvers were done on the fly, and often required quick calculations of weapons trajectories or the amount a inertial strain that could be placed on a ship's hull. In his early days, Joker's instructors had tried to outfit him with an inertial dampening suit to better protect his brittle bones from impacts during simulated combat. The experiment backfired spectacularly, and Joker came to realize his talent for flying was due in large part to his ability to _feel_ the ship.

A good pilot flew ahead of himself; thinking two or three moves ahead of his opponent. His reflexes were honed to an almost perfect point. He could turn a 384 meter frigate into a silent weapon capable of speed and aeronautical maneuvers many other pilots couldn't even dream of. Part of him itched for a dogfight of some sort. He hadn't been able to put the SR-2 through her paces yet, and with the recent ablative armor upgrades, she was feeling slightly off-balance. Joker made a mental note to tell Shepard when she returned to schedule a few combat drills. The promised addition of a beam-length Thanix cannon would mean even more balance issues, and he would rather work out the kinks outside of actual combat.

A familiar figure strutted into view on one of the vid feeds. Shepard had made it to Hock's estate. Kasumi was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean she wasn't present. A gleaming gold statue of Saren Arterius was being wheeled next to the commander.

"What the shit is that?"

"I believe the ploy is based on a rough redition of "The Trojan Horse". Ms. Goto has Commander Shepard's armor and weapons stashed in a hollow compartment of the statue. It was been lined with lead to appear solid in the even Mr. Hock' security scans it."

Joker scrolled through a few more video feeds until he found one that gave him a fantastic view of the commander's back. A majority of the women he had been involved with looked something akin to a Fornax centerfold, all big breasts and tight outfits that accentuated them. Shepard's dress was the most erotic outfit he had ever seen a woman wear; the dip of the back stopped just above where the curve of her backside began, showing off the finely sculpted muscles of her shoulders. A fine lattice of minute white scars crossed the freckled skin, and he wanted to trace each one; first with his fingers, and then with his tongue. The fabric clung to every soft curve, but she carried herself with dignity and a sort of aloof innocence at the appeal of her own body. The dress on any other woman would have been crass. On her, it was a work of art. The heels only added to the picture, lengthening her petite, muscular legs.

A hot pooling of heat in his groin told him his reveries were once again threatening discomfort, and he leaned back in the chair, thinking unpleasant thoughts. _Garrus in a dress. Mordin giving me a lap dance. Zaeed naked in the showers._ He took a deep, steadying breath and let it out through his mouth slowly.

"You are again showing signs of distress, Mr. Moreau. Perhaps it would be of interest to you that the Commander is wearing her earpiece. Her private channel is number five."

Joker perked at that bit of info, and waited until Shepard was past security before he opened her comm. "I hope you don't mind, Commander, but I popped some popcorn and am enjoying the show."

Several cameras had her in their frames, and each one showed her sly smile.

"Don't you have better things to do, helmsman?" was her response.

"Unless you count the occasional adjustment to our orbit, nope. I plan on watching the _whole_ movie."

She had made her way into the crush of people now, and didn't respond. He had Kasumi's comm channel up as well, and the thief was talking Shepard through their plan, which included finding the door to Hock's vault. Joker panned through several more cam feeds to stay caught up with her as she moved about the enormous house.

"You're breaking necks, Shepard," he said lightly, watching as two men and a turian that had been talking abruptly stopped their conversation to stare at the passing commander. _That's right, assholes. Take a good look, because that's _all_ you'll ever get from her. _

"Jealous, helmsman?"

"Mmmm, they have nothing on me. That one guy looked as if he was cross-eyed, and that turian may or may not have scale itch."

"I don't know…I've never seen you in formalwear. How do I know you compare?"

"Ouch, Commander. My pride!"

In truth, he was growing more acclimated to the idea of the inevitable wedding and his subsequent formal outfit. He wouldn't mind the opportunity to get out of the stupid Cerberus uniform and wear something a little more civilized without the hindrance of leg braces and crutches. He had skipped all school dances due to the fact that he, well, couldn't dance. And titanium alloy just didn't seem to go with formalwear.

"Kasumi, the password for tonight is 'Peruggia'," Shepard said over the comm.

"Hmm…interesting," replied the thief. Joker still hadn't seen the small woman on any of the security cams he had hacked. "Peruggia was the man who stole the _Mona Lisa. _Good job, Shep. Now we just need a snippet of Hock speaking. The rest I can do with a voice modulator. This is all you!"

"Oh joy. I get to go be friendly with a murderous aristocratic mercenary. Somehow I don't think they covered this in N training…"

Joker snorted into his mug of coffee and watched as Shepard rolled her shoulders and approached the host. Donovan Hock spoke with an accent Joker couldn't quite put his finger on, and carried himself with more than a touch of arrogance. The commander became subtly more seductive, a sway in her hips Joker had never seen before. He quashed the pang of arousal and concentrated on the vid feed.

"Miss Gunn, good to see you," Hock purred, shaking Shepard's hand. For a brief moment Joker worried about her biotics, but she seemed to have them firmly under control, and the handshake went off without any lightshow. He let out a quick sigh of relief.

"Mr. Hock, a pleasure to see you as well," Shepard replied, voice dripping with seduction. Joker had never heard her speak like that before, and he leaned in closer to the vid screen.

"I hope that situation with your friend at the door didn't start us off on the wrong foot." Hock slid an arm around her waist, and Joker scowled. _Mine! _He paused, and snorted at himself. _Shut up, Jeff. She's not yours. Yet._

"Mmm of course not. I understand. Who would be stupid enough to attempt a heist from Donovan Hock's estate?"

The man seemed genuinely flattered by her statement, and he leaned in closer.

"I've heard much about you, Miss Gunn. You reputation precedes you. Excellent at what you do, cunning, shrewd. A stunning woman such as yourself surely has captured the heart of many a man."

Shepard giggled, a sound Joker had quickly learned to love. It sounded wrong when done in the presence of Hock.

"You're a flatterer, Mr. Hock. Please, call me Allison. I've found in my line of work, there have been plenty of interesting men, but none with enough…substance to truly turn my head." She peeked up at his through her lashes, and Joker was suddenly glad for the colored contacts. _Those eyes are dangerous._

Even on the grainy security cam footage, Joker could see Hock's pupils dilate. She was resting her weight on one leg, hip cocked, which was doing amazing things to her figure. The man ran a hand down her spine and let it rest where skin ended and fabric began.

"How stimulating. I would like to monopolize the rest of your time here, but I do have other guests to attend to. However, I would _love_ if you were to find me later."

"I believe I can do that for you, Mr. Hock. Until later."

She moved off to find solace behind a gallery wall of what appeared to be priceless paintings.

"Damn, Shep," came Kasumi's voice. "I told you to get him to talk, and talk he did. Meet me in Hock's private quarters. We need to fish for some DNA samples."

Joker heard Shepard's sigh and smiled.

"Who knew you were such a fox, Commander?"

She snorted, turning to face the nearest security cam.

"Don't kid yourself, Joker. I feel dirty now." She shuddered as if to punctuate her distain. "And now I have to go combing all around the man's room looking for his DNA? Foul."

"I'll give you a tip: look for the socks under the bed."

"Joker!"

He chortled, and leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving the vid screens.

* * *

><p>Shepard hadn't considered the fact of being naked under her armor undersuit. Its prospect of chafing didn't really appeal to her, so she had shimmied it on over the dress, grimacing as the fabric bunched around her waist. Now, hours and several gunfights later, she stumbled out of the shuttle into the Normandy's cargo bay, dirty, sweaty and exhausted. Kasumi followed after her, lost in Keiji's greybox. Her armor was dented and cracked in several places thanks to Hock's gunship, so she began to shed it next to the row of lockers. She needs a new set, badly. Sighing, she pulled off the chest piece to reveal her undersuit. It too was in need of repair, and she curseed under her breath as she unzipped the sides, pulling down the bunched fabric of the damned dress so it covers her rear. Her earpiece crackled, and a low wolf whistle reverberated through her. She rolled her eyes, turning to face the nearest security cam, and stuck her tongue out.<p>

"Cute," Joker quiped in her ear, and she kicked off the legs of her suit, making sure to keep her thighs together.

"You're such a stalker!"

Her hair managed to make it through the gunfight still ensconced in its intricate updo. She had a small cut across her cheek that needed medigel ASAP, and an impressive bruise was forming on her right hip where a concussion shot caught her. She wanted a shower, a painkiller, and her bed.

"Yeah, don't act like you don't enjoy the attention. Hey, can you stop by the bridge on your way up to the loft? I want to run something by you."

She shoved her busted armor into her locker, hanging the undersuit over her arm. The shoes made it back unscathed, which she counted as a small victory, considering they rode in her kit through a battle with a maniac in a gunship.

"Sure, Joker. I'll be right up."

The elevator spited her by being extra slow, and she was fatigued and fidgety by the time she made her way to the bridge. Joker spun his chair around to face her, eyes raking over her figure greedily.

"So while you were down rubbing elbows with Bekenstein's finest, I was up here, slaving away." He paused, tipping the bill of his hat up so he could mockingly wipe at his brow. "Do you think we could take a few hours out of the day tomorrow to run through some combat sims? We've got a green team, but we've also got new ablative armor, and a new 150-meter cannon. Maybe we could find a few asteroids to let Garrus shoot at or something."

She studied his face, enjoying the intensity in his eyes as prospect of flying filled him with excitement.

"That's actually a really good idea, Joker," she responded, giving him a wide smile. Her cheek protested at the gesture and she ignored it. "I don't know how many of these crew have actually been in combat. Let's see if we can run a full gambit: dogfight, active fire with the Thanix, javelin and GUARDIAN lasers, zero-g situations...yeah. All of it. Find us a good asteroid belt on the way to Illium. I'll let the crew know tomorrow morning."

He rubbed his hands together in glee, a predatory smile spreading across his face. His carnal intent set her blood aflame. Heat pooled between her thighs at the prospect of seeing him in action. _Cold shower, Clementine. On the double!_

"If that's all, I'll be going now. I have a report to file."

"Thanks, Commander. See you in the morning."

Her libido was begging her to march over and kiss him, but her body was begging her for bed. The latter won, and she gave him a small smile before making her way through the CIC to the elevator.

The entire crew had assembled in the CIC the next morning, including the skeleton staff. A hushed buzz of excitement filled the room, and Shepard smiled at the individuals assembled before her.

"Alright. I've assembled you here because it has come to my attention that many of you have not been drilled properly on what to do in a ship-to-ship combat situation. Today we're going to be running through a full gamut of simulations, including a boarding scenario and combat with live fire. Tali has graciously provided us with fighter-sized combat drones, which will simulate enemy attacks. Joker has found us a sizable asteroid belt, so due to the maneuvers we'll be performing, I need you all in mag boots and full gear. Non-essential staff should stay up here to provide assistance and observe. The rest of you, suit up and report to your stations."

Shepard had run her armor through the fabber several hours earlier, hammering out most of the trouble spots and giving it a fresh coat of paint. The ceramic glinted bright under the lights as she made her way up to the bridge.

Joker had brought them to the asteroid belt on the outskirts of the Thal System. The proximity to the nearest planet was such that they wouldn't be breaking any intergalactic laws, and they were an FTL jump to the nearest planet for discharge. The bridge shone brightly in the light from the haptic interfaces; Joker was in full combat mode, running last minute diagnostics and taking notes on the readouts. She stood next to his chair, eyes on the wide expanse of space rock in front of them.

"Ready, helmsman?"

He turned to her with a smile that would have made a lesser woman combust. _It's not fair to be that talented _and_ that good-looking. _

"I was born ready, Commander."

She gave him a wide grin, and tabbed the ship-wide comm open. "Ok, crew. Our first exercise will be combat maneuvers in zero g. There will be no warning when we cut the art grav, so be prepared."

"That's what the 'oh shit!' handles are for," Joker added for her benefit. Miller, sitting in the co-pilot's chair, snorted.

She chuckled, and grabbed the nearest safety bar, the one that ran along the back of Joker's chair. "Take us in, helmsman."

Joker nosed the _Normandy _down into the thick of the asteroids. The Kuiper Belt on the edge of the Sol System was sparse as far as asteroid belts went, with an individual chunk of rock every couple hundred kilometers or so. Thal's asteroid belt was much more dense; Joker was maneuvering between objects with meters to spare instead of kilometers. Shepard watched as a particularly large asteroid approach on their starboard side; Joker banked ever so slightly, and the wing passed it.

"Tali," Shepard said into her comm. "Release the hounds."

A handful of red dots appeared on their ladar, and Joker chuckled. The quarian, Shepard knew, had always been something of a technological genius, capable of hacking through anything, and putting together a drive core with a rubber band and paperclips. She had outdone herself this time, altering several combat drones, making them the size of and F-61 Trident fighter. They were essentially harmless; any shot they fired would bounce off the _Normandy_'s kinetic shields, but they gave Joker something to avoid.

"Initiating evasive maneuvers," he said, fingers flying over the haptic interface. The ship suddenly banked hard starboard, cutting down and around several small asteroids. Shepard watched on the exterior cams as Tali's drones followed, a pack of round purple and pink spheres at their tail.

"EDI, divert power to kinetic barriers."

"Inertial dampeners offline," the AI replied, and Shepard felt herself go weightless. "Art grav at zero G's."

Joker, strapped to his chair, didn't even acknowledge the loss of gravity, but Shepard heard several surprised shrieks and gasps from the CIC. She turned and saw Hadley and Matthews standing next to their navigation stations, feet several inches from the deck. Joker took the ship into a spin along her x axis, brushing several of the drones aside. With a smile, she tapped her foot on a deck plate behind Joker's chair, popping up the toe bar specifically for that purpose and slipping her feet underneath it.

"Do you think they're all smart enough to not lock their mag boots to the floor?" Joker quipped, pulling the ship out of the spin and banking hard to port. One of the drones tried to break from the pack and fired at their starboard side. The pilot rocked the ship in response, batting the drone away with the ship's wing, sending it flying.

"I sure hope so. The last thing Chakwas needs is to treat people for torn ligaments."

On the ladar, the drones were still tailing them, so Joker pulled the ship up into an arcing loop. If her feet hadn't been tucked under the bar, she would have smashed into the ceiling, much like Patel had done a few seconds earlier.

"What did I say about being prepared, Patel!" Shepard barked. Her voice carried to the woman all they way across the CIC.

"Sorry, Commander! It won't – whoa! – happen again!"

"Hadley, unlock those mag boots or you'll tear your leg ligaments!"

"Aye aye ma'am! Oh! _Weee_!"

The navigator complied, and went sailing past Matthews, only to be caught by yeoman Kelly, who, surprisingly, was doing quite well in the zero g environment.

"Point two one three on the z axis, Miller," Joker said calmly. "There ya go. Keep those thrusters hot for me." He turned to peek up at Shepard, a naughty grin on his face. "Donnelly! I need more! Give it to me!"

"Aye, Joker!" the engineer replied through the comm. "But you best be takin' me out to dinner afterwards!"

"You two are incorrigible," Shepard laughed, turning her attention back to the front of the ship. He took them blindingly fast through a denser part of the asteroid belt, needling the ship through holes she couldn't even begin to find. The drones were struggling to catch up; even their small size wasn't enough to outmaneuver the _Normandy_. It was as if he _knew_ the spaces would be there before he even saw them. The shot out above the belt, clearing the debris field, the ship arcing in a graceful parabola. Shepard laughed as her feet left the decking despite being tucked under the bar; his maneuver had shaken her loose.

Joker gave her a cheeky wink, and nodded towards the exterior feeds. "That's an awfully big rock, Commander."

"Seems to be in our way, Helmsman." She tabbed open her comm. "Garrus?"

"Thanix is hot, Shepard," the turian replied, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Joker had oriented the ship towards the out of the system, not another planet for thousands of light years. Newton's First Law of Physics was engrained into every Alliance soldier's brain; you don't shoot in space unless you knew you were going to hit something, or unless there was a very large amount of space between you and the next innocent object. The Thanix, with its molten metal payload, could project a beam for light years before it succumbed to friction.

"Let's see what our new gun can do."

Joker brought his hand down on a large red circle glowing on the interface. Shepard felt the ship rock beneath her feet as the Thanix fired. Molten jets of blue-white metal shot out with blinding speed, smashing into the asteroid hundreds of kilometers ahead of them. With a spectacular show of dust and particulate matter, the asteroid exploded.

"Nice!" Joker yelled, taking the ship through a victory roll.

"All those calibrations were well worth it, Garrus," Shepard said in jubilation.

"And you doubted me," came his answer over the comm. She could hear the grin in his voice.

"Nicely done, Joker. EDI, can you restore art grav please?"

The AI complied, bringing normal gravity back in small increments. Shepard moved about the ship, checking on the status of her crew. Surprisingly, no one had suffered anything more than a minor bruise or two. She was proud. Making her way back to the CIC, she gave Kelly a tight smile.

"Well done, Chambers. Color me impressed."

Kelly blushed. "Thank you, Commander. Oh, and the Illusive Man would like to speak with you."

She sighed inwardly, and thanked the yeoman for the info.

Speaking with the Illusive Man always left Shepard conflicted. The man had an eerie aura about him that translated even through the holographic projection. She new he was the head of a pseudo terrorist organization, but he had spent four _billion_ credits bringing her back.

_That doesn't mean you have to gravel at his feet, Clementine. Just be polite and chipper._

Stepping forward into the comm room, she watched as the table sank into the decking, and the projector began scanning her. The Illusive Man shimmered into view before her, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Shepard," he purred. "I think we have them. Horizon – one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems – just went silent. If it isn't under attack, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the counter measure for the seeker swarms?"

Had he? She hadn't seen the salarian for several cycles now; he had sequestered himself to the lab. "Not yet."

"Let's hope he works well under pressure." A sip of liquor this time, followed by another drag of his cigarette. _I bet he smokes a pack a day_, she mused, and nodded her agreement. "There's something else you should know. One of your former crew members, Kaiden Alenko, is station on Horizon."

Her ears perked at that bit of info. "Last I knew, Kaiden was Alliance. What's he doing out in the Terminus Systems?"

The Illusive Man looked slightly amused at her misgivings. "Officially, it's an outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonies. But they're up to something. And if they sent Commander Alenko, it must be big."

_Commander, huh? I guess things have changed in the two years I was…gone._

Suspicion needled at her, and she bit the inside of her lip. "The Collectors just happen to pick a colony with one of my former crew? I don't buy it."

"It shouldn't be a surprise the Collectors are interested in you, especially if they're working for the reapers." He paused, taking another drag. "They might be going after him to get to you."

Alarm bells rang in her head, and she could feel her biotics threatening to emerge, uncontrolled. "Send the coordinates. We'll head straight there."

"This is the most warning we've ever had, Shepard. Good luck."

With a flicker, he severed the connection, throwing her back into the harsh light of the comm room. Kaiden, on Horizon. In the Terminus Systems. It just wasn't making any sense.

"Joker," she said to the room. "Set a course for Horizon."

There was a brief pause, and she wondered just how much of the conversation he had been listening in on.

"Aye aye, Commander."

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

"_Vous et lui?" = you and her?_

_"_Elle parle français, sœur. Vous faites un âne de vous-même" = She speaks French, sister. You're making an ass of yourself.__

_Footnotes_: For those of you that follow me in general as an author, or have been following my Shakarian tics, I will be updating several more chapters within the next few days. For those of you following this story, thank you! I've also gotten a few messages asking me if I have social media; the answer is yes, I mainly use a tumblr. I can be found at calmbeneathcastles dot tumblr dot com.

Next up for our lovable Commander and pilot is Horizon. I've tweaked the timeline a bit, so we have most of the crew, but haven't started getting into the nitty gritty of the storyline yet. A liberty I feel I can take with my fanfic. So, with that being said, I have a feeling Joker is about to get...territorial, and prepare yourself for some whiny Alenko dialogue.

Ta for now!


	6. VI: Lady Lazarus

I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.  
>I do it exceptionally well.<br>I do it so it feels like hell.  
>I do it so it feels real.<br>I guess you could say I've a call.  
>It's easy enough to do it in a cell.<br>It's easy enough to do it and stay put.

Excerpts from "_Lady Lazarus_", Sylvia Plath

* * *

><p>VI: Lady Lazarus<p>

_What the shit?_ _Kaidan, on Horizon? _

Joker stared at the data screens in front of him, not really seeing. He had been eavesdropping on Shepard and The Illusive Man's conversation...nothing out of the usual, really. But hearing his former shipmate was on Horizon made Joker's blood run cold. Kaidan. At the mention of the sentinel's name, he felt his chest begin to tighten. Suddenly, he couldn't take in enough oxygen. The tips of his fingers and toes began to numb, and his breathing became erratic. He tried to calm his heart rate, but the bridge became dark as his eyes rolled back in his head.

_Pain everywhere. Bones grinding against each other every time he breathed. The feeling of fists hitting his gut. The sharp smell of ozone. His brain registering the smell as biotics. Pain, and then black. Nothingness. _

"Shit!"

Joker clutched the armrests, his knuckles turning white. He hadn't thought of _that_ memory in a very, very long time. Chakwas had _warned_ him about emotional triggers. He took a deep, steadying breath; in through his nose, out through his mouth. Gradually his heart rate returned to normal, and he slumped in his chair, cold sweat chilling his skin.

"Joker? Are you ok?"

The sound of metal boots on the gangway pulled him out of his panicked haze. Garrus, fully armored, spun his chair around. The pilot leaned his head against the back of his seat and squeezed his eyes closed. "Yeah, just give me a minute." He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to return feeling to his fingers.

Garrus knelt next to the chair, his head cocked to the side. "You don't look ok."

Joker opened his eyes and stared at the cockpit canopy, watching blue and indigo currents eddy over the surface of his ship. "Alenko is on Horizon," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Garrus stood abruptly and said something in turian that even Joker's impressive lexiconical program couldn't translate. "Yeah, that about sums it up. And of course, the Illusive Jackass has Shepard going down there to 'investigate'. So, naturally, shit is going to hit the proverbial fan." He slumped further in his chair. "Fuck. I need a drink. Or ten."

Garrus made a low growling noise in his throat and shook his head. "That's not really what you need and you know it." He ran a hand along his fringe and snapped his teeth together. "Don't make me confiscate all the liquor on the ship and give it to Chakwas. You know I'll do it."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He waved a hand at the turian, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine." Joker cleared his throat, checking the status of their FTL vector. _Shit. Two minutes._ He shook out his hands. It wouldn't pay to be panicky now, in case they needed to make a quick break for it. Shepard would be taking the shuttle down, and Joker would use the curve of the planet to hide from any ladar the Collector ship had.

"Are you ready to go, Garrus?"

The sound of Shepard's footsteps walking up the gangway made his stomach clench again. He cursed the Illusive Jackass over and over in his mind, wanting desperately to _punch_ something, but first hand experience told him that would be incredibly unwise.

"I am," Garrus replied, his voice wary. If Shepard noticed, she said nothing. Joker felt her come up behind his chair, grabbing it for balance as they shifted out of FTL.

"Be on the lookout, Joker," she said, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder. "The Collector ship is in the system."

Out of pure reflex, he jerked forward, surprised at the contact. The hurt look on her face made his gut twist even more, and he swore internally. Garrus, ever tactful, took her by the shoulders and steered her back down the gangway, muttering something about seeker swarms.

It had been over two years since Joker had seen Kaidan Alenko. They had been debriefed together; Kaidan had stuck to the Alliance's official version of the story, while Joker couldn't stomach defaming Shepard's hard work in exchange for a promotion. The pilot was now well-rehearsed in the sentinel's dossier -thanks to Cerberus- which did nothing but solidify his idea that the biotic was unstable, at best, and possibly a sociopath. His gentle manner and soft-spoken ways managed to charm the brass that mattered, while Joker's biting snark and refusal to parrot the Alliance's bullshit story got him grounded. There had been the debriefing in the hospital the few months after the crash, and the full-panel brass grilling once he was discharged. Kaidan was only present for the latter, but made a show of discounting everything Joker said.

They had gotten along quite well before the destruction of the SR-1; Kaidan was a fastidious navigator, and followed procedure to the book. There had never been any indication of his mental instability during their hunt for Saren, except the occasional migraines from his L2 implant. During an episode, he would sequester himself to the med bay for hours at a time, refusing to see or speak to anyone. At first, Joker felt bad for the man. But as time progressed, Alenko began using his migraines as a way to garner sympathy from Shepard, and if she saw through the ploy or not, she was always commiserating. What began as innocent curiosity eventually gave way to Kaidan actually pursuing Shepard; Joker knew better than to think they had actually done anything, but the thought still made his heart clench painfully.

_Fucking Alenko,_ he thought, and busied himself with watching the ladar readouts. With the radio jamming in place, he needed to be diligent; and he couldn't afford to lose another _Normandy._

* * *

><p>The colony was deathly silent, apart from the constant drone of the seeker swarms. Mordin's countermeasures seemed to be holding up; the bug-like creatures seemed to be just a minor annoyance rather than paralyzing them outright. The sky above was churning violently, tinted a sickly yellow as the clouds swirled around the hulking Collector ship. Shepard's gut had dropped to her feet at the sight of the vessel; immediate fear for the <em>Normandy<em>, which she knew was hiding somewhere along the curve of the planet, and for the colonists that were missing.

They hit the ground running, Garrus and Grunt flanking her as they made their way through abandoned prefab pods. The krogan seemed to be taking everything in with wide eyes. Shepard doubted Okeer had imprinted any information regarding the Collectors. So far, he was proving to be a valuable asset. His new favorite move was allowing a hoard of husks to overtake him, the cybernetic zombies clinging to his armor and moaning. He would then _throw_ himself bodily against any solid surface, leaving dents and crushed husk corpses in his wake. Shepard had to admit it was an interesting tactic, but it kept a majority of the husks off her so she could focus her biotic hits on the Collector drones.

She tried not to dwell at Joker's sudden and inexplicable coldness towards her, instead concentrating all of her frustrations into the form of biotic energy. The new amp had yet to overheat, even as she was holding a fairly large singularity ten feet in the air as Garrus dispatched of the drones caught in the mass field. The familiar feel of adrenaline had flooded her system, pushing any thoughts that didn't involve _surviving_ from her mind.

But, with each empty building, Shepard felt herself growing angrier. They had arrived too late to stop the ship from claiming its victims. She felt a touch of fear and claustrophobia as they examined a few of the stasis pods, knowing that almost the entire colony had been taken away in similar fashion. Humans, trying to further humanity's reach in the galaxy, working hard to make a living on a planet that barely resembled her home world. Inevitably, her thoughts were interrupted by incoming Collector drones, and she rolled into cover, drawing her shotgun. "Garrus, get up on top of that pod if you can. Grunt, with me. I'm going to lift them, and you shoot. On my mark!"

She felt the electric tingle of biotic energy as it enveloped her form. Reaching out into nothingness, she touched the air at its molecular level, feeling it bend. Cupping the energy in her hand, she launched it into the foray, a corner of her mind still maintaining the mass field. Several drones were drawn off their feet, floating helplessly as Grunt began raining down shotgun blasts. Garrus sprinted to the nearest pod, scaling it in no time, and was picking off husks with his sniper.

One of the Collector drones suddenly fell to its knees, its form becoming swathed in a smoldering glow of flame and flesh. Suddenly, it shot into the air, arcing back on itself, glowing bright as a star.

"_ASSUMING CONTROL."_

The voice emanated across the battleground, vibrating its way into her head, making her teeth ache. Without hesitation, she flung another singularity at the glowing drone, which was now advancing on her position with a renewed vigor. Its feel never left the ground, but the singularity field was holding it in place; she could see it struggling to break free and raise its weapon.

"_YOU WILL OBEY, SHEPARD."_

_Oh, that's just great. It knows my bloody name. _She pulled her shoulders back and launched a warp with as much energy as she could gather; the attack hit her singularity and tore at the drone, blasting it backwards. A move like that would have ripped apart a lesser foe. She grunted in frustration, leaping over her cover and sprinting towards the Collector.

"_I WILL DIRECT THIS PERSONALLY."_

Sprinting, she gathered a charge of energy, the familiar thrill building in her chest. With a grin, she launched herself at the Collector, driving the butt of her shotgun into its insect-like head. It reeled back from her assault. She leveled her gun and shot the creature point-blank in the chest, watching it explode into a shower of gore. Grunt gave her a shoulder pat and a toothy grin in celebration.

They pressed forward, encountering more drones and husks, before hacking their way into what looked to be the generator facility for the colony. There, they found a mechanic who had retreated into the bowels of the generators to avoid detection. Shepard bit her tongue as the man admitted to abandoning his fellow colonists, taking shelter and locking himself in behind the safety of steel doors.

"This is all the Alliance's fault!" he spat, pacing and throwing his hands up in frustration. "They stationed that Commander Alenko here, and built those defense towers! It made us a target!"

Shepard didn't flinch at the mention of her former cremate. Steeling herself, she glanced sideways at Garrus, who nodded. "Tell me more about this Alenko," she said tightly, crossing her arms.

"Commander Alenko? Heard he was some kind of hero or something." Delan replied. Behind Shepard, Garrus snorted. The mechanic ignored it. "Didn't mean nothin' to me, though. Would've rather he stayed back in Alliance space."

Shepard's mind processed the information. The Illusive Man had mentioned a sort of outreach program, to bridge Alliance relations between colonists. While she didn't doubt Alenko's interpersonal skills, she was aware that he had been given a promotion, and sending a commander in to do political propaganda work seemed like a terrible waste. She felt her spine tingle with apprehension. "Any idea what he was doing on Horizon?"

"He was _supposed_ to be here to help us get the defense towers up and running." Delan shook his head, his voice gruff. "I got the feeling he was here for something else. Spying on us, maybe."

Shepard's brows knotted in consternation. "Tell me more about these defense towers."

Delan ran a dirty hand over his face, leaving streaks of grease on his cheeks. "A gift from the Alliance. Had to build a giant underground generator just to power them, but we couldn't get the targeting systems online. So, they gave us a giant gun that couldn't shoot straight. This is all their fault!"

"Why do you think it's the Alliance's fault?"

"We're just a small colony. Nobody bothered us before we started building those damned defense towers and drew attention to ourselves. I left Council space to get _away _from the Alliance. Nothing good ever comes from getting mixed up with them."

"The Collectors have been targeting remote colonies. The Alliance is trying to help."

"I don't need their help. Too many strings attached. That rep said he was just here to get the towers online, but mark my word…there's more to it than that."

Delan became increasingly more agitated, and Shepard decided it was best they move on with the mission. She managed to get the location of the tower controls from him, but the man refused to assist. Instead, he locked the door behind them, interface glowing a bright, angry red.

The tower controls were clear across the colony. Several times on their way she tried to raise the _Normandy_, with no success. She missed Joker's humor in her earpiece, but immediately dismissing the thought when she remembered the cold, closed look on his face when she touched him earlier. _Worry about it later, Clementine. _"Garrus, Grunt, keep a lookout. I'm going to see if I can get these towers up." GUARDIAN towers were an Alliance invention, and Shepard was relieved to find the software was the usual straight-forward collection of codes. She managed to break through the radio jamming with relative ease. "Shepard to _Normandy_. Joker?"

There was a crackle of static, and relief flooded through her as Joker's voice reverberated in her ear. "Joker here. Signal's weak, but we've got you Commander."

"Alright." She ran a hand along her ponytail, EDI, can you get these towers online?"

"Errors in the calibration software are easily rectified," the AI replied. "But it will take time to bring the towers to full power. I recommend a defensive posture. I will not be able to mask the increased generator output."

"Let them come," Grunt growled, slamming his fists together with a predatory grin.

"Ok, EDI. Any other tips you have for us?"

"Just one. Enemy reinforcements are closing in. I suggest you ready weapons."

Of course, it wasn't just the usual force of Collector drones and husks. Something large, ugly, and biotic advanced on them, glowing an angry blue. Shepard was sweating profusely, limbs shaking by the time her and her team dispatched the creature. It was a huge relief when EDI finally took control of the towers, firing salvos at the collector ship. For a moment, Shepard thought they had a victory. Until the Collector ship rose off the ground, thrusters melting and boiling any prefab pods in the immediate vicinity.

Delan came sprinting out of his hidey-hole, hands on his head, screaming at the departing ship. "No! Don't let it get away!"

"I'm sorry," Shepard said, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. "We tried our best."

"More than most, Shepard," Garrus calmly agreed. The mechanic snapped his head towards the turian and scowled.

"Shepard…I know that name." Delan took a step towards the commander, narrowing his eyes. "Sure, I remember you. Some kind of hero or something."

"Command Shepard," came a soft voice. Kaidan Alenko emerged from behind a prefab pod, an intrigued look on his face. "Captain of the _Normandy_, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel." The sentinel stood before her, assessing her. "You're in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost."

"All the good people taken, and you get left behind?" The mechanic gave Alenko a snide look and threw his hands in the air. "Figures. I'm done with you Alliance types." He stalked away.

Shepard watched him go, feeling her gut clench. Kaidan stepped closer to her, his eyebrows knitted together. She could feel the remnants of biotic energy on his skin, her biotics reacting at his proximity. After several moments, he stepped forward and enveloped her in his arms. She froze, holding her breath. On the SR-1, Kaidan had been handsy, but never pushy. His embrace wasn't expected, but she wasn't surprised by his audacity. _Two years really changed you, Kaiden. _Shepard hesitantly returned it, patting him on the back with a gloved hand.

"I thought you were dead," he said into her hair. "We all did."

She struggled to catch her bearings as he stepped away, a torrent of emotions building in her chest. "I'm sorry, Kaidan. How have you been?"

The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. His eyes narrowed, and his expression became cold and closed. "That's all you have to say?" He pointed a gloved finger at her face. "You show up after two years and act like nothing happened? I thought we _had _something, Shepard."

"I…Kaidan, what are you talking about?"

"I though we had something _real! _I _loved_ you!" His face twisted in a pained grimace, biotic energy swirling around his form.

_Oh not good. I don't want to hurt you, Kaidan. Reel it in. _She took a step back, shaking, her armor smacking into Garrus'. The turian was growling low in his throat.

"Kaidan," she said, holding her hands up in front of her, a pleading gesture. "I'm sorry. You _know_ how I felt at the time. I needed space. I needed time to think."

"Time to _think?_" Kaidan spat. "You've had _two years_. Isn't that time enough? Thinking you were dead tore me apart! How could you put me through that?"

It was as if he had struck her across the face. She turned away, tears threatening to spill over.

"Why didn't you try to contact me?" he continued, grabbing her arm. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

"It wasn't my choice!" she yelled, shoving him off biotically. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide and full of hurt. "I was in a coma for two years while Cerberus rebuilt me! I was clinically _dead,_ Kaidan! My own _parents_ don't know I'm alive."

He shook his head and frowned. "You're with Cerberus now." His voice was low and throaty, entirely unlike the Kaidan Alenko she knew. The sentinel turned towards the turian. "Garrus too? I didn't want to think the reports were true…"

"What reports?" the turian said sharply. "You mean you already _knew_?"

"Alliance intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing colonists. We got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me…but there were rumors that you weren't dead. And you were working for the enemy."

She suppressed a sob that rose in her throat. If the Alliance knew about her Cerberus affiliations…panic began to curl in her stomach. She didn't _want_ to be working for Cerberus, especially after all the atrocities her team witnessed the group committing during their search for Saren. But the Alliance wouldn't listen, and she had weighed the price of millions of lives against working for a group with less than admirable goals. She _had_ to choose Cerberus, if it meant saving lives.

"Do you think I would work for Cerberus if they were attacking human colonies?" she said quietly, fighting to keep her voice calm and even. "People are _dying_, Kaidan. People are dying, and the…the Alliance is ignoring it. Cerberus and I want the same thing: to protect our colonies. That doesn't mean I answer to them."

"Is that really what you think?" he snarled, stepping towards her. "Or is that what Cerberus _wants_ you to think?" He was in her face now, his armored chest cracking against hers. "I wanted to believe the rumors of you being alive were true. But I would never have believed this. You turned your back on _everything_ we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me."

He hit a nerve, the constant throbbing fear in the back of her mind. Cerberus had brought her back, and given her the necessary tools to continue her fight. She felt torn between her steadfast, unquestionable faith in the Alliance and her driving need to stop the reapers. It was the inner conflict that kept her awake at night, that shook her from her nightmares. She knew there would be possible repercussions if the Alliance decided to act on them. While death had automatically discharged her from her military service, she was first and foremost a soldier.

"Kaidan, you _know _me!" she pleaded, grabbing his arm. "You know I would only do this if I believed it was the right thing to do! You saw it yourself! The Collectors are targeting _human_ colonies. They're working with the reapers."

Kaiden stared down at her hand clutching his armored bicep as if it were poisonous. "I want to believe you, Shepard. But I don't trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of the reapers to manipulate _you_. What if they're behind it? What if they're working for the reapers?"

"Damnit, Kaidan," Garrus growled, pulling Shepard back away from the sentinel. "You're so caught up on Cerberus, you're failing to see the _real_ enemy."

"Maybe," Kaidan spat. "Or maybe you feel like _you_ owe Cerberus for saving you. Maybe _you're_ the one who's not thinking straight. You've changed, but I haven't. I know where _my_ loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier, and always will be." He turned his head away, frowning. "I've got to go report back to the Citadel. They can decide if they believe your story or not."

"Kaidan wait!" she said, stumbling forward out of Garrus' grip. "Come with me. You'll see that I'm telling the truth."

"No it won't. I'll never work for Cerberus." The look on his face was almost painful to look at. "Goodbye, Shepard. And be careful."

She watched him walk away and slumped back against Garrus. "Joker," she whispered, pressing her earpiece. "Send the shuttle down. I'm done with this place."

* * *

><p>It was well into the ship's night cycle when they returned. Joker watched her stumble out of the shuttle and practically sprint for the elevator. Garrus and Grunt emerged slower. The surveillance camera had a manual positioning override, but Joker didn't even bother following Shepard's retreating form. He patched through a vid call from the Illusive Asshole, keeping one eye on the comm room cam and another on the maintenance reports scrolling across the screen. He listened as Shepard snapped at the head of Cerberus, walking out of the comm room and straight for her quarters.<p>

"God damnit," he muttered, banging his head against the back of the chair. Way too many feelings were swimming around in his head, which was _exactly_ why he avoided people in the first place. Emotions were messy and distracting. His job required him to ride the constant knife-edge of adrenaline-enhanced focus. Distractions were deadly. He purposely distanced himself from everyone. Piloting was a lonely job in the first place, sequestering himself from the rest of the crew, spending a majority of his shifts and his off hours on the bridge. Flying was comfortable to him, as was the independence.

But now, he found himself watching the one distraction he was _willing_ to tolerate break down at the words of her former crew mate. _I had no idea she was so torn up about Cerberus_, he thought, dragging a hand across his face. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he mentally chided himself. Of course she was conflicted. Shepard was the epitome of the perfect Alliance soldier: beautiful, intelligent, deadly.

"I'm going to kill Alenko," he said, his voice echoing in the empty bridge. He half expected EDI's hologram to make an appearance at his outburst, but the AI stayed silent.

"I'm assuming you saw _and_ heard all that crap down there?" came a grating voice. Garrus was leaning against a bulkhead, appraising him.

_Saw it?_ he thought, running a thumb along the edge of the flight console. He had watched the entire exchange through Garrus and Shepard's suit feed, once EDI had managed to secure a connection to the ground team. The look of hatred on Kaiden's face was all too familiar to Joker. With a sharp pang in his stomach, he squashed the guilt and shame down. "If I hadn't, would I be this pissed?"

"You have your own reasons for being pissed at Alenko, Joker. Don't act like I forgot about it."

Joker gritted his teeth. "Why the fuck did he have to jump on her like that? As if it's isn't disorienting enough being _dead_ for two years, and then you have your…_crew mate_…dress you down for shit you had no control over?"

Garrus rubbed a hand along the back of his head awkwardly. "I knew Alenko had a thing for Shepard, but he's acting like they were mates."

Joker shook his head violently. His hands were curled into fists in his lap, nails biting into his palms. "That's what _Kaidan_ wanted. Shepard wouldn't break frat regs, and brushed him off. Didn't stop him from following her around like a puppy."

Garrus tiled his head to the side in confusion. "What's a puppy?"

"A baby dog," Joker scoffed, rolling his eyes. "That's beside the point. Isn't anyone worried about what impact this is having on Shepard? Kaidan was like her right-hand man."

"I've thought about it. What about you? He was your navigator."

"And he beat the fucking _shit_ out of me, Garrus, so no, I _wouldn't_ mind putting a bullet in his head."

"Kaidan did what?"

Joker and Garrus froze. Shepard padded silently up the gangway. Her hair was still wet from her shower, hanging in a curled cascade down her back. She was wearing her worn hooded sweatshirt and leggings, her "comfortable" outfit. The look of absolute sorrow on her face was like a punch to Joker's gut. _I am going to fucking kill Alenko if it's the last thing I do._

"Nothing," Joker said quickly, staring out the corner of his eye at Garrus. The turian cleared his throat. The unmistakable flush of blue was crawling up his neck. "This is a conversation for the two of you," he said, and left the bridge, laying a hand on Shepard's shoulder in passing.

"Joker, what are you talking about?" She padded closer to his chair. Joker leaned back against the seat and his breath hitched in his chest. This was _not_ a discussion he wanted to have with her. He didn't know if he could even last through the topic of Kaidan without losing it. _Oh yeah Shepard, our lovely Alenko beat the shit out of me because I fucked up and killed you…and I deserved every punch he threw at me._

"_Nothing_," he gritted out again, clenching the arms of his chair with white knuckles. Just _thinking_ about Alenko was making his extremities go numb, the familiar pressure starting to build in his chest. His throat grew tighter and he felt adrenaline start to kick in. _Shit, shit._ _Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Shit. _The edges of his vision began to blur out, and he leaned his head back, fighting for air.

"Joker?"

There was a feeling of warm hands, light on his brow.

_Black expanse of space. The pod was absolutely silent except for the rhythmic blip of the distress beacon. He blacked out, coming back into conscience with an excruciating jolt of pain. "SHEPARD!" The smoldering wreckage of his ship, drifting into Alchera's atmosphere. "SHEPARD!" Pounding on the pod door; the sharp snap of breaking bones. Blood. Compound fractures, he knew, familiar with the throbbing sting. He ripped his breather mask off and threw it against the door, sobbing, dragging his hands down his face, smearing blood everywhere._

The fizz of biotics. Images, trying to pull him out of his panic attack.

_Pain in his legs now, where he had landed heavy on the decking. Femur break, the bone grating against his skin as he pounded on the door, screaming. "SHEPARD!" His worst mistake. He felt like his heart was going to burn right out of his chest, and he clawed at the metal._

"Jeff, Jeff, _please_! Breathe!"

The soft touch of another mind now, like slipping into a warm bath, pulling him from the chill of his memories_. Shepard? Not Shepard. Shepard's dead. His fault. His fault! Explosions, everywhere. Her body spinning away from their ship. His ship cracking apart at the seams, drifting into the gravity well of Alchera. _

"No, Jeff! _Je suis ici!_"

_An Alliance ship, responding to the distress beacon. His pod, pulled into the cargo bay. Still pounding on the door, his hands bloodied, body battered, beyond recognition, wanting to die in her place. I killed her. I killed her. The door opening, familiar faces. Chakwas. More Alliance soldiers. Kaidan pulling him out, throwing him onto the floor. His broken leg snapping again, the bone puncturing through his thigh with unbelievable pain…The sharp snap of biotics, a fist hitting his gut, over and over. "You killed her! You fucking killed her!" I know…I know I did…I KNOW! A rib puncturing his lung, wishing it would suffocate him, take him back to the blackness. I don't deserve to live if you're dead, Clementine. It's all my fault. A fist to the face now, the crunch of his orbital bone breaking._

"Oh no…Oh no, no, no…"

The warm bath feeling again, stronger, hotter.

_Jeff, please. I'm right here._

_Shepard? No. You're dead. I killed you._

_No Jeff. You didn't kill me. The Collectors killed me. Please, _trésor, _come back to me. I won't let him hurt you again._

_I deserved it, Clem. I deserved all of it._

Warm hands on his face now, and soft lips. _Impossibly _soft lips. With a shuddering breath his eyes flew open. He suddenly had a very close-up view of Shepard's face. Eyes closed, lashes sticking together with tears. And her lips on his. He could feel the wetness of _his_ tears hot on his cheeks.

_Please, Jeff. Please._

He carefully raised his hands to cradle her face, lightly pulling her face away from his. Her eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus. She sighed, and sat back. Joker noticed she was kneeling between his legs, her knees on his chair. He tucked a curl behind her ear and sighed.

"So now you know," he said quietly, ashamed of the pain in his voice. Ashamed of the tears on his cheeks, of the memories he couldn't control. "They grounded me. I cared more about a ship than my crew. Shrinks, hospital stays, detox, PTSD, the whole nine yards. Kaidan got a dressing down for laying hands on a fellow soldier, and then a promotion."

Her eyes flashed darkly as she frowned. "Kaidan…is not the man I thought he was."

Joker snorted and rolled his eyes. "You're just now figuring that out? It's a known fact that almost all L2 biotics are mentally unstable. The fifteen broken bones I had are proof of that." He sighed, letting his head thump back against the seat. "But it's not like I didn't deserve it."

Shepard stilled. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I fucking killed you!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. Shepard reeled back as if he had slapped her, her mouth open in a gaping "o", eyes wide. "Because I wouldn't fucking leave my ship, and you had to come save my ass. It's my fault you died, Clementine. Because I wouldn't _fucking_ listen!"

For a split second there was ringing silence. Shepard, balanced on her knees between his legs, staring. Him, clutching the armrests of his chair, staring back. And then her mouth was on his again, with a desperate hunger he could _feel_. The swirling blue cloud of her biotics wrapped around them like a cocoon, their minds meeting in a clash of emotions. Images now, just fragments of her memories; the SR-1 mess, throwing grapes in each other's mouths, Tali, Garrus, Wrex and Ash roaring in laughter; his daring rescue from the volcano – he could _feel_ her relief. Her absolute trust in him as he dropped the Mako on Ilos. Happiness and warmth at seeing him in that hallway on the Cerberus station.

His memories...Meeting her as she came aboard the SR-1 for the first time, chastising Kaidan for commenting on her appearance, but thinking the same thing himself; jumping down her throat about his Vrolick's, and realizing she truly didn't care; sharing a beer over cards during an off-duty night and losing spectacularly to her in Skyllian Five; being absolutely terrified of losing her on Therum, and then again as she drove the Mako through the Conduit.

Their memories began to overlap. His mouth moved against hers with renewed passion, feeling a crash of arousal slam against his psyche. The way she looked on his bridge in that black dress, wondering what those damned heels would look like on her naked; how her thighs would feel against his cheeks. There was a touch of fear there, and insecurity. He pushed at it, sending it back into the recesses of her mind, letting his tongue slide into her mouth. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Brief flashes of what must have been daydreams, fantasies; the color was brighter than real life, more vibrant, and had a hazy quality on the edges. Images too quick for him to process. He clutched the back of her head in his hand, the other straying to her back, splaying his hand against her shoulder blades.

_Do you understand? _Her voice was soft and sweet in his mind._ I don't blame you. I _never_ blamed you._

_It doesn't matter,_ he responded darkly._ I don't deserve you. I never deserved you._

_I _want_ you, Jeff. I'm yours. Screw the regs, screw the doubt. I'm not _whole_ unless I'm with you._

Her hands pushed through his beard, sliding into his hair and knocking his cap askew.

_I disobeyed your orders, to save a ship. I can't, Clem._

_I don't give a _fuck_, Jeff! _Surprise now, at her mental outburst. _You FIGHT for the things you love. You loved the _Normandy_, and you fought to save her. I don't give a damn that it was a ship. It was _your_ ship. And I know you would have _never_ let me die if you could have helped it. You did what you could. You tried to save her. Flying is your life. Fighting is mine. And if someone tried to take that away from me, I would fight to save it, too. _

He groaned against her mouth and slid his hand up under her sweatshirt, marveling at the scorching heat of her flesh. His nerve endings were on fire in the best way possible. Every touch was felt twofold as their minds overlapped again. Finding the space between her breasts, he pressed his hand against her chest and felt her heart pounding against his palm. _Alive, and real._

_Yes, Jeff. I'm alive. And I'm here._

"Commander? Mr. Moreau?"

EDI's voice broke them apart, Shepard's biotics dying at the loss of contact. Both of them were panting, staring at each other, green eyes meeting blue and brown.

"Need I remind you that the bridge is a public place on the ship?" EDI chided, sounding slightly amused.

Shepard doubled over with silent laughter, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

"Did I just get cock-blocked by an AI?" he whispered in her ear.

She giggled and stood up from his chair, pulling him –gently- up with her. "EDI, have Miller mind the helm for a while. Mr. Moreau and I need to debrief about our last mission."

There was a pause, before EDI responded. "Aye aye, Commander."

The quietly made their way through the dark CIC to the elevator, hand in hand.

* * *

><p>Up in her quarters, she sat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. Joker obliged, sitting down slowly and letting the stress ease out of his muscles.<p>

"Why didn't you tell me any of this, Jeff?"

Her eyes were earnest, searching his face. He extended an arm along the back of the couch and let his fingers brush through her hair lightly. "Why would I? I've never been one to share my feelings." He gave her a non-committal shrug and forced his eyes to stop straying to her bed. _Don't even go there, Jeff. _Absentmindedly he rubbed his thigh, trying to work the kinks out. Sitting for long periods of time did little to help his legs. He would have to combat it, later in the gym. Make up for a lack of activity with resistance training and treadmill work. But right now, his joints were protesting loudly.

"Let me," Clementine said, moving his hand away. She motioned for him to put his feet in her lap. "Here." She made quick work of his boots, letting them thump to the floor. He leaned against the end of the couch, using the arm to stretch out his lower back and she swung his legs up onto the cushions.

She started with his feet, hitting all the right pressure points, making small circles along the arch. He let his head fall back a bit against the couch. "I honestly can't remember the last time someone did this for me."

"You never let Bridget rub your feet?" The question was asked innocently enough, but he could tell there was a bit of a knife's edge to it. He snorted.

"Bridget was never more than a shore leave girl." He groaned softly as she removed his socks, letting her warm hands knead his calves now. She wore a slight frown at the sight of the faint pink suture scars from his most recent surgeries. The small touches sent a tingle of biotics up his legs straight to his groin. She was controlling the mental connection though, judging by the look of concentration on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, rolling up a pant leg so she could use both hands to rub along his lower legs. "I didn't know…about Kaidan. About any of it. I never even thought to _ask_ what you did those two years I was…gone."

"Nothing really to tell," he said, voice tight. "Was in the hospital for the first month or so. When they discharged me from Huerta, I got an apartment on the Citadel. Sat through a lot of bullshit briefings. Cerberus contracted me out about a year ago." He flinched as she reached his left knee. "Careful. I landed on that one, when you…when I fell into the escape pod. They had to reconstruct it. Oh. Oh shit. That feels _good_." She had laid her hand on the knee in question, her hand glowing slightly blue, warm under her touch. He could feel the buzz of energy leaching the pain from his joints.

"I don't suppose I could talk you into taking your pants off?" she asked, looking coy.

He froze and narrowed his eyes at her. "That depends…"

Her flush was beautiful as it spread across her cheeks, and she tucked her chin to her chest, letting a cascade of blonde hide her face. "This works better on bare skin, that's all. If you don't want to, it's ok…"

_Shit. Shit! She's trying to get into my pants? _"I mean, I'm all for it, but…"

She let her shield down, her conscience washing over his with the now-familiar warm bath feeling. _I'm not very good at this sort of thing._ Her voice was quiet in his mind. Soft pluck of embarrassment, insecurity. But there was a feeling of need there, and a jumble of emotions he couldn't begin to decipher.

_I'm still not sure I'm what you want_, he replied.

Bubble of mental laughter and warmth. _You're _exactly_ what I want, Jeff. What do I have to do to make you see that?_

Thinking quickly now, he swung his legs off the couch and stood, shuffling slightly to adjust his now too-tight uniform pants. She stared up at him, confused, until he offered her a hand. Carefully, he led her over to the bed and sat, pulling her down next to him.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't _want_ you, Clementine," he said, voice wavering slightly. "I do. Really, _really_ badly. But you're so much…better of a person than I am. And I don't want to…shit. How do I say this?" He reached out and cupped her face in his hands.

_You are beautiful, and intelligent, and so far out of my league I can't even believe I'm sitting here with you. _She opened her mouth to retort, out loud, but he shook his head. _That being said, I also respect you. And I…well shit. I've never felt this way before. So, I want to try. To figure this out. But I can't promise I can be what you want. I can't promise I won't fuck it up._

_You've _always_ been what I want, Jeff_, she replied, moving to straddle him._ Sharp edges and all. _Her mouth caught his, and he groaned as she threaded her fingers in his hair, knocking his cap off onto the floor. His hands moved from her face down to her thighs, fingers curling so his thumbs brushed against their apex. Again, he felt a twinge of insecurity from her, and he fought a scowl. _You're perfect. Why…_

_I don't know if I can be what _you_ want. _A quick flash of Bridget. Of Shepard stumbling on his private files; Fornax subscription, downloaded vids. Centerfolds of human women, busty and beautiful, sex personified.

_You've always been what I want, Clementine,_ he replied, parroting her words. He pushed back on the bed, against the pillows, and he settled his weight between her legs. He found the hem of her sweatshirt and his hand ghosted up her stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. She wore nothing under it, and his thumb found the soft curve of a breast. _Shit. So fucking perfect. _

Gasping, her back arched in response. With difficulty, he balanced his weight on one arm and drew her sweatshirt up over her head with the other, leaving her bare. She had a smattering of freckles _everywhere_, dusted across her chest and stomach. He kissed down her neck and chest, finding a pert nipple with his tongue. One of his hands slid down to skim the waistband of her leggings, feeling the muscles of her stomach tremble. Slipping under the fabric, he felt his breath hitch as he came in contact with her center. Her biotic connection with him was superior to verbal feedback; he knew exactly what she needed on an instinctual level. One finger, then two slid into the warmth, and she groaned, her hips bucking up against his hand.

It was all he could do to control his ragged breathing, and he pressed his thumb against the bundle of nerves in time with the ministrations of his fingers. The soft noises she was making were making his head spin, and deftly he withdrew his hand and pulled off her leggings, taking her panties with them. He wrapped one arm around her waist, moving a leg up to rest on his shoulder. His lips led a trail of kisses down her knee to the inside of her thigh, punctuated with soft bites.

_Please, Jeff._ Her hands fisted in his hair, hips bucking again. He grinned and slid a finger back into her, adding his tongue into the mix.

She was perfect in every single way. Every part of her body that touched his sung with energy, layering her arousal on top of his in a heady mix of emotions. Her moans reached a fevered pitch, until she came, shattering around him. Her own orgasm was almost his undoing, crashing through his mind like a tidal wave. She grew limp and collapsed back against the pillows, panting.

When she had gathered her wits, she pulled her panties back on, along with her sweatshirt. He drew himself up next to her and gathered her into his arms. "You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered into her hair. She laughed softly and tugged at his belt.

"You're wearing entirely too many clothes, helmsman," she said, deftly unclipping his belt and untucking his shirt at the same time. Joker laughed and sat up so she could pull the uniform top over his head, leaving the undershirt. Subconsciously he checked to make sure his dog tags were tucked beneath the soft cotton. "Pants too!" She slid those down over his hips, quirking a smile as his erection tented his boxers. "Is that a frigate in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?"

He growled and pulled her close again, against the soft fabric of his undershirt, rubbing his nose in her hair. "Just a frigate? Not a dreadnaught?"

She pushed against him playfully and he fell back against the pillows with a soft thump. Sliding his shirt up, Clementine kissed her way down his stomach, playing with the band of his boxers. His skin was on fire where she touched him, and he leaned his head back and groaned as she skimmed down his boxers, freeing him. "Definitely a dreadnaught," she quipped, and ran a tongue up his length. He fisted the sheets, hissing through his teeth as she wrapped her mouth around him. _Fuck…how many times did I daydream about this? _Peeking through his lashes, he groaned. Her hair was a golden curtain around her face, pink lips giving him an unbelievable amount of pleasure. He reached down and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, earning him a smoldering look from her mismatched eyes. A few more seconds and he was coming undone, loudly moaning her name into the dark.

She disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, and he could hear the sound of the water running, before she emerged with glasses for both of them. He watched as she folded her bare legs underneath her, settling on the bed lightly. _She has freckles on her knees,_ he noted warmly.

"You haven't been eating enough, Clem," he said between sips of water. "I don't remember you ever being this thin."

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, frowning slightly. "I'm eating the same amount I always have. Miranda thinks it's the increased biotic output." She grimaced. "Gardener isn't very…skilled at cooking for vegetarians. I've been living off ration bars and MRE's for a few days now, since our produce supplies have dwindled."

Joker scowled and set his glass of water on the nightstand. "Where are we going next? Somewhere we can get more rations?"

"Illium," she answered, leaning over to open the small cryo unit next to the bed. "Since you're off duty for…eight more hours, would you like some hummus? I recall you saying something about avoiding spicy foods before long shifts."

Clementine produced a container of the spread, along with a package of pita bread. She tore a piece from one of the loaves and swirled it in the hummus. "Open up," she said, giving him a mischievous look. He complied, and she popped the bread in his mouth, fingers brushing his lips. The hummus was spicy, but the right amount, and they ate in companionable silence, leaning against each other. Joker couldn't remember the last time he felt so _content_. The hum of the FTL drive was a mere whisper up in Clementine's loft, and he lay back against the pillows, staring out into the vast expanse of space stretching in the window above.

"Wait," he said, running a hand through his hair. "If we're going to Illium…"

Clem gave him a rueful grin and packed the hummus and pita back into the cryo unit, giving him a flash of the briefest of black panties. _Shit. She has freckles on her ass? Down boy. _"Well, technically, _I'm_ going there to recruit a drell assassin and an asari justicar. _You're _going there to get a tux."

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes in mock indignation.

"Oh please," she said, pulling the covers back and sliding underneath. "At least you'll _know_ what you're wearing. Kasumi keeps telling me whatever she has planned for my dress will be 'breathtaking' and 'vintage couture'." She pulled him down next to her and wrapped an arm around his waist, curling against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they had done it a million and one times. He nuzzled his face in her hair and sighed.

"Are you going to be tagging along to watch me be tortured?"

Her eyelids fluttered. "Mmm. Maybe. D'you want me to?"

"Might make it more bearable."

Her sleepy smiled stayed on her face even as she drifted off. Joker watched her for a while, memorizing each curve and contour of her face, until he was sure she was asleep. Quietly, he slipped out of the bed and donned his uniform, making sure everything was in place. He really hated to leave her, but someone was bound to notice him missing from his rack, and scuttlebutt like that was a thing he would like to avoid. Giving her one last, longing look, he headed for the crew deck, a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: So, if you like Kaidan, you may not like my portrayal of him in this fic. I never really liked the man, and I've never played him as a love interest in any of the games. I actually end up killing him off and keeping Ash, because she actually grows a bit in the storyline. That being said, yes. Kaidan is an antagonist to my Joker, and will be for the duration of SMDaSD. I hope if you <em>do<em> like Kaidan, you don't mind me abusing him a bit.

Next chapter we'll be heading to Illium. Enter Thane, Samara, and a Kasumi/Shep/Joker shopping trip. Jack has a few things to say to Shepard, and the crew may let lose a bit on Nos Astra.


	7. VII: A Lighter Sin

To know for an hour you where mine completely—-  
>Mine in body and soul, my own—<br>I would bear unending tortures sweetly,  
>With not a murmur and not a moan.<br>A lighter sin or lesser error  
>Might change through hope or fear divine;<br>But there is no fear, and hell has no terror,  
>To change or alter a love like mine.<p>

Excerpt from _Ad Finem_ by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

* * *

><p>VII: A Lighter Sin<p>

It took several moments for Clementine's eyes to adjust in the red light of Jack's quarters. The biotic was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by rolls of paper and a mess of paints. Music was blaring from the speakers, making the decking vibrate. The dimness made it difficult to tell, but Shepard was sure there was a lot of red and black involved in Jack's paintings. Angry colors, applied with harsh, bold strokes to any available surface.

"I'm not turning it down, if that's what you're here for," Jack yelled above the music. She kept her shaved head bent over her ministrations, nodding in time with the beat, full lips tripping through the lyrics. She had been aboard the _Normandy_ for a few weeks - long enough to stake her claim to the alcove under engineering. She had brought with her a scant amount of belongings other than her few items of clothing and a bag of art supplies, purloined from a locker back on _Purgatory_. It was Clementine's wont to make sure new crew members were settling in, but Jack needed a bit more time to acclimate than the average recruit.

"Is this Wolfmother?" Clementine asked. She skirted around the torrent of artwork and leaned against a bulkhead, palming the volume down. Jack raised her eyebrows and surveyed the commander.

"Yes…I didn't think a _princess_ would know good music if it smacked her on the ass."

Clem suppressed the urged to roll her eyes and instead forced a smile. "One of my N7 instructors was really into old Earth rock." Her forced smile became warmer at the thought of Sargent Carson. The older man had gunned for her to apply for special forces after seeing her in a routine training exercise. He became her mentor after climbing to N7 designation. _He probably still thinks I'm dead, _she thought with a jolt. Shaking her head, she refocused. "And on the SR-1, Joker had thousands of songs stored in his files. On long stretches we'd blast it over the comms to keep everyone pumped up."

Jack snorted and drew a violent slash of crimson across the paper. "So did you fuck him yet?"

Shepard rocked back on her heels at the statement before catching herself. A predatory grin spread across the convict's face.

"I'm going to take that as a no." Jack sat up and stretched sensuously, her eyes never leaving Shepard's, a spider watching a fly caught in its web. "Although, it would probably do you some good to get laid. Would probably work that stick out of your ass."

Clementine laughed, a light and airy sound above the throaty music. "No. That would be Garrus. When he runs out of ammo, he switches to beating people over the head with it."

Jack narrowed her eyes. "Look. If you're here to be all buddy-buddy with me, you can fucking forget it. I'm here. You gave me access to those files I wanted. I'll kill whatever gets in our way. But you and I definitely don't need to 'bond'."

This time, Clementine did sigh, and pushed off the bulkhead to step closer to the tattooed woman. There was an aversion there; Jack pushed away the emotions but invited everyone in with physical intimacy. Twice she had propositioned Shepard with casual sex before her ever-observant mind had locked onto the tension between the commander and her pilot. Joker, with his odd schedule and reclusive nature, wasn't subjected to the same verbal lashes as Clementine had been. On a military ship, it would have been insubordination. But Jack was a unique case – one that required a certain finesse. _Crack through the tough exterior with a commonality_, Shepard said to herself.

"Look," she said, crossing her arms on her armored chest. "You can be a bitch to me all you want. I get it. Hell…I'm used to the shitty, surly attitudes by now. But wouldn't it be just a bit more fun if we learned to get along?"

Jack raised her eyebrows as the assertion before laughing. "Sorry, sweetie. But you and I have nothing in common."

"What makes you think that?"

"_Really?_ You are fucking clueless, aren't you?"

"Only on Wednesdays," Clementine shot back.

Jack snorted and shoved herself into a standing position, mirroring the commander's casual stance. "I see in front of me a spoiled brat who was given everything she ever wanted. The best schools, country club memberships, ponies…hell, you probably didn't even have to go through all the bullshit to get chosen for N training. I bet they just handed it to you on a silver platter."

The commander tapped her foot impatiently. She had laid awake for hours the night before, contemplating on how to approach Jack, getting her to trust just the littlest bit. After falling into a fitful sleep, she woke in a cold sweat, her dreams throwing her back in time, to the sharp pangs of hunger, shaking weakness, and utter exhaustion. Not since her resurrection had she dredged up the abominable memories from her early childhood. Her subconscious had given her an answer to cracking the convict. Clementine swallowed hard. "You know what they say about making assumptions."

"Oh fuck off!" Jack snapped. "Did you ever have to fight for your fucking life against other _children? _Did they lock you in a room and starve you, just to see if it made you _weaker_? Did they dose you up with who knows what and hook you up to a fucking machine to measure how the drugs made your biotics so powerful you blacked out?"

Shepard dropped her gaze to stare at the decking. "What makes you so sure I didn't go through the same thing?"

There was a very pregnant pause, filled by the sounds of an angry guitar riff. Clementine raised her head to stare at Jack. The tattooed woman was gaping at her with wide eyes.

"You're _fucking_ with me," she spat. "The Alliance wouldn't do shit like that to their people. Let alone their _perfect darling soldier._"

Shepard held her gaze and set her jaw. It _hurt_ to dredge up the dark memories, but gaining Jack's trust was more important that her own personal feelings. She took a steadying breath to push down the pain, carefully arranging her face back into a casual mask. "I gave you unlimited access to all of Cerberus' files. You're telling me you _didn't_ read mine? Color me surprised."

"Now wait a fucking minute!" Jack said, stepping forward and shaking a finger in the commander's face. "Get off your high horse. I had more important shit to look up than dirt on you."

Shepard shrugged.

"If this some bullshit psycho-babble tactic to get me to feel all warm and fuzzy about you…" Jack continued through gritted teeth. The commander held up a hand.

"I'm not here to argue, Jack," she retorted, accent thickening at her indignation. "I take the time to get to know my team _in person_. And…I get it. You don't want to be friends. That's fine. But just know that you aren't alone on this ship, ok? And in the off chance that pigs start flying and you do want to talk about shit childhoods and...fucked up experiments...you know where to find me." Shepard turned to go, letting some tension ease from her shoulders. _I need a stiff drink_, she thought as she reached to palm to door open.

"Wait!"

She half-turned to see Jack standing over her scattered paintings, hands clenched in front of her. The bald woman looked confused. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she twisted her fists against each other in a nervous fidget.

"I don't want to be butt-buddies or anything," Jack said quietly, eyes on the floor. "But maybe sometime we could discuss…I don't know…shit and stuff over a couple drinks?"

_Success_, Shepard thought, and smiled. "I would really like that, Jack."

"Fuck, Shep," the convict replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't get all mushy on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Shepard laughed. "Suit up. We've got an assassin and a justicar to recruit, and I want you ready to go in ten." She turned to leave and let the door slide open, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey," Jack said behind her. "About that pre-mission pump up music…"

* * *

><p>Joker stretched his hands above his head, wincing as his back protested at the awkward angle. He had been at the helm for almost seventeen hours - sixteen and a half of them in transit to Illium. His eyes flicked to the multiple screens above him and he frowned. They had made decent time to Nos Astra, but one of his relay jumps had been slightly sloppier than he liked. Lateral drift of over 2300 kilometers was unacceptable as far as he was concerned. Chiding himself, he reached for his coffee mug, only to find it cold and almost empty.<p>

"Damnit," he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his beard, pulling at the bags under his eyes. There was the option of getting up to stretch his legs and pour more coffee, but ideally he should be getting rack time before Shepard and Kasumi came looking for him. _Shopping_. He shuddered. Joker preferred ordering what he needed via the extranet and having it delivered to his apartment door. His commander and her thief colleague had squashed that idea before it even came to fruition, siting the need for a competent tailor to custom-fit his monkey suit.

Then, then cockpit went dark.

He yelped in surprise and shot forward in his chair, fingers flying across the console. "The shit?" he spat. The interface was locked and dim under his hands. He turned towards EDI's projector as the AI flickered on, bathing his figure in lucid blue light.

"There is no need to be concerned, Mr. Moreau," EDI said. He scowled and opened his mouth to retort, only to have his words die on his tongue as music filled the bridge. Guitars and drums echoed off the decking.

_"I don't give a damn about my bad reputation!"_

He swiveled in his chair to face the CIC. Miller, Matthews and Patel were craning in their seats towards the galaxy map, which was flickering in time with the beat. A figure encased in brilliant white armor was dancing her way across the floor, using a water bottle for a microphone and lip-synching along with the music. Jack wasn't far behind her, using her rifle as a stand-in for a guitar. Zaeed emerged from the elevator behind them, looking torn between amusement and annoyance.

Clementine Shepard - first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel, the Alliance's model solider - was dancing to two-hundred-year-old Earth music in the CIC of his ship with a biotic convict and a grizzled mercenary.

He rocked back in his chair, eyes wide. Shepard grabbed Kelly by one hand and spun her around until the yeoman was dizzy and breathless from laughing. Quiet, contemplating Patel was staring at the scene with a star-struck look on her face, peeking out at the CIC between her fingers. Garrus, Donnelly and Daniels emerged from the armory, followed by Jacob, who had a smile spreading across his face. Ken grabby Gabby and swung her in circles until she smacked him on the shoulder, smiling.

_She sure knows how to make an entrance_, Joker mused, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Shepard was sidestepping her way across the deck, stopping to offer her water bottle/microphone to Matthews, who sang along with gusto. The navigator clapped Miller on the back, and the quiet pilot grinned and started to nod his head with the music.

_This is what she does,_ Joker thought, watching as Clementine's blonde curls danced across her shoulders. _She makes people feel good about themselves and the cause. We're on a goddamn suicide mission, and she has the entire crew dancing like it's New Years. _

On the original _Normandy_, Shepard had started the tradition of playing music ship-wide before big missions. In the midst of a manhunt for Saren, she'd managed to _boost_ the moral of her entire crew. Even surly Pressley had joined in jubilantly when Queen's _We Will Rock You_ came across the comms. She taught old, almost forgotten Earth songs to Wrex, Garrus and Tali so they could feel a part of the pump-up routine as well. Hearing a krogan sing _Cherrybomb_ was something Joker wouldn't soon forget.

_"An' I only feel good when I got no pain, an' that's how I'm gonna stay!"_

Clementine's dancing carried her up the gangway and onto the bridge. Joker watched as she spun and slid around Jack's undulating form, avoiding the convict's rifle. EDI's holo was flickering in what could only be amusement; Joker wasn't fooled – the AI _definitely _had a large part of this surprise dance party. His commander sang through her brilliant smile, locking eyes with him. Her unchecked joy was _almost_ contagious, and he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body as she drew nearer to him.

"_An' I don't give a damn about my bad reputation, oh no, not me, not me!_" She gave him a wink and he felt his face flush. "_Not me. Not me!"_

The song ended as the crew whooped and clapped, a few whistling through their fingers. Shepard was standing directly in front of his chair, not even breathing heavy. She looked jubilant and _alive_. He peered up at her from under the brim of his hat and felt his heart lurch. She was_ beautiful_.

"Varren got your tongue, helmsman?" Clem asked. Behind her, Jack leaned her petite frame against a bulkhead, eyeing Joker as a cat might eye a mouse.

"Consider me rendered speechless by your superior dancing skills, Commander," he quipped, shooting her a loose salute. She laughed in response and turned towards Jack.

"You can thank our biotic convict for today's song choice," Clementine said. A feral smile curled Jack's lips. Joker suppressed a shudder at the hunger in her eyes. "You can choose the next song, Joker!"

He eyed her suspiciously, one eyebrow threatening to disappear beneath the brim of his hat.

"You sure about that, Commander?" He lowered the pitch of his voice an octave, eyes flicking to Jack and back to Clementine's face. "I'm not sure if you want to give me that sort of _freedom_. My amazing taste in music might make you weak in the knees."

The blush that spread its way across her freckled cheeks was all the answer he needed.

* * *

><p>Sitting on the sidelines a majority of his life had shaped Joker into a phenomenal people watcher.<p>

Illium was teeming with free entertainment, mostly in the form of asari and volus traders arguing over stock, each waving their fists in the air and shouting subtle threats that lingered in the heavy evening atmosphere. He watched as a krogan recited poetry to his asari lover, unsure of if he should laugh or feel embarrassed at witnessing such an intimate moment between two completely different lovers. The thought floated in his head for a moment or two before he paused to examine it. _Two completely different lovers_. He stretched his legs out in front of him, feeling the ever-present niggling of pain shoot up from his ankles to his hips. Sure, Cerberus had spent loads of credits improving his legs. But the surgery alone wouldn't take away his pain, or the slight hesitance in his step, or the perpetual curve of his spine he'd gotten from spending his formative years on crutches.

Leaning his head against the back of the bench, he squeezed his eyes shut. He imagined Shepard, in her worn sweatshirt and barely anything else, curled up on her bed with the container of hummus balanced on her freckled knees. Legs that were threaded with finely toned muscles, legs that had carried her countless miles across endless battlefields. Legs that only knew the sharp pain of shrapnel or bullets, healed by medigel and stitches. He rolled his knuckles across his thighs, trying to work out the knots. The back of his mind told him it was useless to wallow in pity – that Shepard accepted him for exactly what he was, Vrolick's and all. She trusted him with her ship and her life. Hell, he had seen what her mind held; the color of her emotions as he drug his hands across her skin. There was no revulsion in the myriad of her subconscious; there was beauty, lust, respect and reverence. _Reverence._ As if he was her knight in shining armor, sweeping in to save her. There was no doubt in _her_ mind.

_So why is there in mine?_

He opened his eyes and leveled his head, gazing out at the caliginous skyline of Nos Astra. Joker was waiting on her to finish her debrief from the latest crew acquisition. He hadn't ever had much contact with drell in general, but _nobody_, regardless of race, should be as utterly calm as Thane was. The aura of almost pastoral tranquility he exuded unsettled the pilot more than the psychotic biotic bunking under engineering. Loud and gesticulating, he could handle. Those types wore their feelings on their sleeves, and you knew where they stood. The brooding, quiescent drell made him feel as if he were being judged on everything he did.

_Because I need even more people judging me_, said the cantankerous voice in the back of his mind. He gritted his teeth and chided himself. It was so easy to fall back into the cynical mindset that had buoyed him through life. It was almost effortless. He groaned inwardly and massaged at his thighs more. A more prominent voice in his head was chastising him for being surly. _Clementine wouldn't approve of your self-deprecating attitude_, he thought. And of course it was true. Spending more time with her made him want to like people more. She was a people-person, a true leader who thrived on team building and teaching.

_I don't deserve that kind of devotion, _he thought, his gut twisting into a hard knot. _I can't be what she needs me to be outside of the ship. _Hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre, the perfect Alliance solider...and Jeff "Joker" Moreau, pilot. The best pilot, for sure, but that's where his credentials ended. He wasn't a soldier, suiting up in armor, guns strapped to his back. There were days where he could barely walk from his cockpit to his rack without the sharp needles of pain he had grown so accustomed to.

Joker was very good at self-deprecation. He had perfected it at a young age, when bed rest, surgeries and relearning how to walk consumed his waking hours. On the SR-1, his constant aspersion was thawed by the sunny disposition of his commander. In her second life, she still radiated the same effervescent positivity, catching him in her glow and making him _almost_ forget his shortcomings. His short trysts with Bridget were the stuff of common shore leave satisfaction. _But I actually care about Shepard. And that makes a difference._

Almost timidly, he allowed himself to imagine a future. A future without the Collectors or reapers, where war was not the heavy cloud hanging over their lives. He hadn't really ever considered the subsequent aftermath if and when they made it back through the Omega-4 relay. A future where he could make a life for himself outside the cockpit of his ship. Where he could love something other than a frigate.

The sound of Clementine's laughter tore him from his reverie. He searched the crowd for her familiar form, finding her walking happily next to the slight form of Kasumi. The little thief had obviously been responsible for dressing Shepard; Joker was almost positive she didn't own any clothing that would be remotely rockstar-esque.

"Sorry we took so long," Shepard said, coming to a stop in front of his bench. "I wanted to make sure Samara and Thane were settling in ok."

He gave her a noncommittal shrug. "S'ok. It's not like I'm particularly _excited_ about this whole shopping thing."

She pushed her lip out in a pout, and he fought the urge to catch her mouth with his. _For fuck's sake, Jeff, weren't you just having an existential crisis about this? _"The more you complain, the worse it will be," Clementine said, offering him a hand up. He scowled at it and shoved himself off the bench. Brittle bones and yanking didn't mix well. He straightened the collar of his jacket, running a thumb along the metal chain of his dog tags out of habit. Shepard was looking at him with a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "It's just...yeah. Pulling me up would do more than get me off the bench."

She nodded slowly and turned to Kasumi. "So. Where to?"

The thief smiled and Joker shuddered at the sight. Something about her expression said _torture the pilot_. "There's an asari-owned place I know of that does fantastic work. They also do same-day tailoring, so we can get it all done today!"

Shepard clapped her hands together. "Fantastic! Lead the way, Kasumi."

Cerberus upgraded his bones, but walking long distances was still challenge. Clementine and Kasumi were taking their time, a tourist's pace, pointing out the architecture of a particular building or a shop that caught their eye. Even moving slowly, his knees began to protest and he leaned against a railing, pretending to eye an aircar on the deck below. He shifted his weight from leg to let, trying to abate the throbbing pain. Shepard, noticing his absence, turned back, searching for him in the crush of foot traffic.

"I was just watching this idiot trying to park," he said as she came up beside him. A soft smile spread across her face, making his gut twist. She held out a hand. _I don't need your help. _He studied it for a moment before lacing his fingers through hers, feeling the soft buzz of biotic energy that was always present on the surface of her skin. She was controlling the flow, with just a soft press of mental touch. Reassurance, and the bubbly notes of happiness that were almost contagious.

"It's ok, Jeff," she said quietly, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "_Oui?_"

_God damnit,_ he thought, biting back a groan. _She genuinely cares, Jeff. Get your shit together. _With a smile, he brought her hand up to his lips and dusted a chaste kiss across her knuckles. "_Oui._"_  
><em>

Together they walked back towards Kasumi, Clementine subtly letting him lean into her for support. It was natural - there was no hint of pity or remorse from her. _You're holding the hand of the most gorgeous, dangerous woman in the galaxy. Act like it! _The smile on Kasumi's face was radiant, and a flush began to creep across his face. The little thief had been in on their relationship all along, he knew. And not that it bothered him, really. But Kasumi always had a way of being coy and rueful, which made him feel awkward. The slight woman lead them into an impressive shop, a small bell tinkling as they crossed the threshold. Soft white chairs graced a waiting area, and an immense span of mirrors lined the back wall. An asari in a white dress greeted them. "Welcome to Myraelphia's. I'm Selyx. How can I help you?"

"We need a tuxedo, custom fit, for a human wedding," Kasumi supplied.

Selyx nodded her indigo head. "Black or white tie?"

"Black," Clementine said, smiling up at Joker. He still had her hand in his, leaning a bit of his weight against her shoulder.

The asari tapped at her omnitool. "Do you have a color scheme picked out?"

The question was directed at Clementine, who blushed and shook her blonde head. "Oh no, it's not our wedding. It's his father's."

Joker felt his mouth go dry and he stared at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Kasumi gave a quiet chuckle and pulled Shepard to the side as Selyx guided Joker to the mirrored wall and had him step onto a pedestal. He had been fitted for uniforms before of course, for the military academy and for his Alliance dress blues. He wasn't prepared for the asari to pull his legs apart to shoulder width and begin measuring him with her omnitool, completely ignoring all aspects of his personal space.

"Do we have an idea on the color of the jacket?" Selyx asked, moving to Joker's inseam. He cleared his throat and avoided catching Shepard's eye in the mirror as the asari moved up closer to his groin. _Somehow I imagined this differently in my fantasies._

"Slate grey," Kasumi said sagely, leaning back in a white chair and crossing her legs. "We might as well make it count. Two button, shawl collar..." she tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips. "Skip the cummerbund and let's do a white vest. Silver bowtie. Let's break _all_ the rules."

On the pedestal, Joker swallowed hard and gritted his teeth.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em> This chapter didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but it's been far too long since I've updated this story. Consider this a filler, of sorts. I've already started writing the next chapter, which will be up in a week. I've also been going back through the story and retconning a bit, so if it's been a while since you've read through the entire fic, minor changes have been made.

Thanks to everyone who has been liking, following and favoriting this story. Small bits of appreciation keep me going.


	8. VIII: Naked Soul

He loved her without desperation and needs

and wants.

With his naked soul,

he loved her,

and dreamt of her clothed

in white dancing

beneath the moonlight

as the stars

grew jealous of the way

she moved.

-Christopher Poindexter

* * *

><p>VIII: Naked Soul<p>

Tiptree was an unassuming little human colony tucked in a small system, orbited by an enormous moon. From several hundred kilometers up, it looked minuscule compared to other colonies, a plain little garden planet with a violet-tinted sky and sweeping farmlands. Joker sighed and nudged the _Normandy_ into geosynch, leaning back in his chair. He hadn't been home since before being slated as pilot for the SR-1. The place he left behind for the military academy then flight school that had offered him nothing but the occasional pang of yearning for solid ground, a violent-tinted sky, and the enormous moon hanging low on the horizon.

He wouldn't tell Clementine, or anyone for that matter, just how homesick he had become after the loss of the _Normandy. _He had lost his home, his ship and his commander, but couldn't face returning to the place that built him. His father, Marin and Gunny lived in a new house now - a building that held no memories for him. It was designed by his dad's hand and built in the old earth fashion of wood, concrete, glass and nails. Their old home had been a modest pre-fabricated assortment of modular pods, modern in a science fiction sort of manner. Gunny sent him photos of the new house, grand and sweeping and slung low on the edges of the colony.

The torrent of emotions he felt at the prospect of going home - if it could be called that - perturbed him. A mixture of apprehension, excitement and dread that knotted itself in the base of his stomach and refused to move, even as he shuffled out of his chair towards his rack to gather his seabag. In passing, he clapped his sub-helmsman on the shoulder.

"I'm leaving the ship to you, Miller," he said, voice rough with suppressed emotion. The junior pilot nodded, looking nervous. All the kid really needed to do was check to make sure their orbit didn't decay for some reason, and he had EDI to do the checking for him. In truth, Joker was nervous about leaving his ship in general. Not since taking the helm had he departed the SR-2 for longer than a few hours - now he would be gone for almost seventy-two.

A tendril of excitement crept into his chest. Seventy-two hours playing civilian (well, he technically _was_ a civilian now...working for a para-military pro-human terrorist group) with his maybe-girlfriend/undead commanding officer. The corners of his mouth twitched down at the thought; their "official" story for Shepard being MIA for almost two years was deep cover work for the Alliance. It didn't cover why she was no longer a marine, but Joker figured only Gunny would be nosy enough to pry that far into their ruse.

His bag was packed with the entirety of his civi wardrobe, along with a scant few necessities. His new monkey suit and matching shoes hung in a garment bag from the peg next to his bed and he suppressed a shudder at the sight. A somewhat large price to pay for an extended shore leave, but Kasumi had assured him it would be worth it. The slight woman wouldn't reveal a single thing about Shepard's dress, only that it complimented his tux.

"You're a matched pair," she assured him as the courier delivered his new purchase. "I promise you won't regret attending with her."

The shuttle was prepped and waiting for him in the cargo bay, along with his commander. Looking like she had stepped out of a magazine, Clementine was throwing her luggage and a long, black garment bag into the cockpit. Her golden hair was its usual mess of curls pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. It was autumn on Tiptree, and she wore a soft cream colored sweater and jeans tucked into leather boots. His heart stuttered a bit at her simple, understated beauty. She caught sight of him shuffling over and grabbed his bag from off his shoulder, throwing it onto the bench next to hers.

"That's pretty light," she commented, taking his tux and laying it carefully across the empty bench. "Did you pack enough? You said it's kind of chilly down there."

He picked at the collar of his jacket. "I don't own a lot of civilian clothing. Never had the need. I promise all my underwear are clean, though."

Her mouth tugged up a bit at the corners as she shook her head. "Ok, _mon pilote_, let's get this show on the road."

Flying a shuttle was nothing compared to flying the _Normandy_, but with Shepard sitting shotgun and the sweeping views of Tiptree's rich fall colors, he found the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. He set them down in front of his father's house, helping Clementine clamber out before tossing their bags down at her feet. The vast fields of grass and rolling hills were the same. The landscape was burnished into muted reds and golds of seasonal change. His father's new house was clean lines and a contrast of glass and wood, sprawling out in a geometric tumble. He could hear the soft buzz of muted conversation coming from inside. An auburn-haired figure came barreling out the front door, a blur of long limbs.

"Jeff! You're home!"

Gunny slowed enough so she wouldn't slam into him, and he gathered her up in his arms, the top of her head reaching the bottom of his chin. "I missed you."

He held her back at arms length, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The kind, freckled face was as he remembered, the preteen roundness giving way to sharper angles and mature lines. "I missed you, too__.__ When did you grow up?"

His sister smiled brightly. "It was bound to happen some time. You look...like you've been working out?"

He gave her a baleful smile and jerked his head towards the door. "These bags are still heavy, Gunny..."

She threw her hands up in the air and groaned. "Ugh, fine. Follow me. But we _are_ going to talk about what you've been up to!"

His sister skipped through the front door and into the massive foyer, auburn hair a gash of color against the bright white interior of the house. The entry opened into a large living area, complete with a glass-sided fireplace crackling softly against one wall. Joker whistled softly. "This is pretty impressive."

Gunny led them down a side hall to their room. "You guys are in here. I figured one bed was ok." She looked over her shoulder and shot Joker a wink. Clementine laughed from behind him. He scowled. "Get settled in. We're all out back." She turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall.

He tossed his bag on the bed along with the offending tuxedo. Their room as spacious and bright, two of the walls made up entirely of glass with wide views of the fields behind the house. The attached bathroom housed a large walk-in shower and an inviting-looking egg-shaped tub.

"Your dad designed this?" Clementine asked softly. Her eyes were wide in wonder, taking everything in.

"He's an architect, so I guess you could say he designed the house. Marin is an interior designer. They met while working on a project together."

She slid her arms around his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder, her lips brushing the side of his neck. "A bit serendipitous, don't you think?"

He stilled briefly, checking to see that Gunny had actually disappeared down the hall and was't hovering at the door eavesdropping. Assured she was gone, he grabbed the end of her ponytail and tugged, forcing her chin up, catching her mouth with his. A spark of energy slid through his body as her lips moved against his, her hands threading into this hair and knocking his hat askew. He could feel a buzz of her biotics being held in check, but just barely. She molded her body to his, warmth spreading from every area they touched. They leaned into each other until he reluctantly pulled away.

"As much as I hate to say it," he said, resting his lips on her forehead. "But they're probably wondering where we are."

"You're right," she replied, her hands cupping the back of his neck. Her thumbs found the chain of his dog tags, and a soft V of confusion etched itself into her brow.

"Come on," he said quickly, grabbing her hands and kissing each palm in turn before leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose. "Let's go meet the family and stuff."

There was soft music playing in the backyard when he and Clementine walked through the patio doors. It was late afternoon, the sun slung low in the sky, drawing long shadows across the lawn. A handful of people were milling about under a large pergola strung with lights. He recognized his uncle Guiles and several cousins he hadn't seen since before his academy days. Standing near the outdoor fireplace was his father and Marin, each looking blissfully happy. Gunny was sitting crosslegged on chair, chatting with a boy Joker didn't recognize. His sister caught sight of him and waved.

"Jeff!" his dad exclaimed, striding forward to shake his son's hand. Louis Moreau was a tall, strapping man of the intellectual sort; close-cropped black hair going grey at the sides and keen, green eyes behind black-framed glasses. The years had been kind to him, and Joker smiled at the sight of his father so outwardly happy.

"Hey, dad," he said, clasping his hand. "Marin. It's good to see you." His father's betrothed was a strikingly gorgeous woman with ebony skin and a kind, open face. She gave Joker a kiss on both cheeks, making him blush.

"It's good to see you, Jeff," she said lightly. Her eyes settled on Clementine, hovering next to him, and widened.

"Oh, uh," he said awkwardly, shooting his commander a harried look. "This is my plus-one. Dad, Marin, this is Clementine Shepard."

Her name came out of his mouth during a lull in the music, and most of the people who had been deep in conversation stopped abruptly. Joker saw the color rise in Clem's cheeks before she caught herself. Ever the picture of class, she offered a handshake to his father and a kiss on both cheeks for Marin.

"It's so nice to meet you both," she said sweetly. Her accent always thickened when she was trying to impress. "Joker doesn't talk about much else than flying, but Gunny filled me in on the necessities."

Louis crooked an eyebrow. "Clementine Shepard...and in _Commander_ Clementine Shepard?"

Joker heard the insinuation in the question. His father and sister had seen him wallowing at rock bottom in his Citadel apartment, torn to pieces after the loss of the _Normandy_. _Ah shit. _The "deep cover" story was going to be a harder sell to Louis than it had been to Gunny.

"Please, call me Clementine," she said earnestly. "I am technically...retired from the Alliance. And here for a strictly civilian experience."

"Of course," Louis responded, shooting his son a look. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Clementine. Welcome to our home. Marin will show you to the bar over there. Help yourself. Dinner will be in...about an hour." He gave her a tight smile and turned to his son. "Jeff, a word?"

Marin steered Clementine over to the outdoor bar while Louis clapped a hand on Joker's shoulder and steered him away from the crush of people. He stopped to stare his son. Joker noticed new lines etched around the corners of his eyes and mouth, the harsher lines of grey tracing his temples and disappearing into his dark hair.

"When Gunny refused to tell us who you were bringing as a plus-one, we assumed it was because we wouldn't..._approve_ for some reason. It's been so long since you've been home, and to be honest I didn't know what to expect. But bringing a woman who is supposed to be dead? Not to mention a woman who was your _commander_?"

Joker scrubbed a hand through is beard and sighed. "Her official story is she was doing deep cover work for the Alliance, and that her death was a fabrication. If she wants to tell you what really happened, she will. It's...complicated."

Louis studied him over the top of his glasses and took a sip of beer. "And this complicated story...how are you involved?"

"I was slated as her pilot. Again. The organization we work for wanted some of the original crew back and well...there's only one pilot that's able to fly a _Normandy_-class frigate." He shrugged and looked over his father's shoulder, watching Marin, Clementine and Gunny in animated conversation. Some of the wayward cousins were watching the three women with wide eyes, obviously having overheard the introduction of Joker's plus-one. His sister was telling a joke, judging by the quick, open smile on his date's face. Marin was watching to two interact with a blissful expression. If Joker had to guess, the older woman looked a bit...starstruck.

_I know the feeling._

"A _Normandy_-class frigate. Deep cover work. An organization you won't name." Louis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your sister never gives me this much trouble."

Joker rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you everything when I _can_ tell you, dad. I promise. I'm not intentionally trying to hurt you or Gunny by leaving you guys in the dark about what I'm doing. Just know that it's...really, really important."

His father studied him for a moment before the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Ok. I get it. I'll drop it. It's just so good to have you home."

Louis pulled a bottle of beer from a cryo-unit next to the grill and handed it to Joker. He twisted it, glancing at the label, and grimaced. _Non-alcoholic. Go figure._

"Now. Care to tell me how you ended up with your former commanding officer as the plus-one to my wedding?"

Joker leaned against the stone bar, watching the three women. "Blame Gunny."

Louis smiled knowingly. "Ah. She did seem awfully invested in making sure everything was perfect. And she kept it a complete secret, which is saying something." His father turned his gaze towards his daughter, fiancé and Clementine. "She's much prettier in person than in all those Alliance propaganda vids. Demure, even. Not what I was expecting from the Hero of the Citadel."

"She's something."

He regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth. His voice was thick and full of emotion, and his father turned to raise an eyebrow. Joker felt the flush creeping up his neck and pulled the bill of his hat down lower.

"I never thought I would see the day," Louis said sagely. "My son in love."

"Nobody said shit about _love_, dad."

His father shrugged and took another sip of beer.

* * *

><p>"Tell me what your ship is like!" Gunny exclaimed, leaning forward on her chair towards Clementine. The commander smiled over her drink. Gunny's enthusiasm and openness was contagious. Where her brother was reserved, she shone with exhilaration. The commander had discovered the young girl had a penchant for asking questions, but did so without being aggravating.<p>

"I'm not the one who should be telling you. That's more your brother's department. All I know is that it's big and fast and apparently 'very sexy'."

Gunny waved a hand impatiently. "Alright. So, if Jeff isn't there to fly it, who is? Well, I know you probably left it in geosynch, but even then you need to check to make sure your orbit isn't in danger of decaying."

Clementine laughed, curling in on herself. "You sound so much like your brother when you talk shop. We have a sub-helmsman. He's nothing compared to Joker, of course, but he should manage."

"What about your crew?"

"They're allowed shore leave, if they want it. Tiptree is small enough that they shouldn't get into too much trouble." She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips. "It was a little tricky talking my XO into letting us take 72 hours off. But there are things you just shouldn't miss out on."

"But aren't you the commanding officer? Why would you have to ask your XO for permission?"

_Yes, indeed, Shepard,_ she thought._ Why would you? Because she brought you back from the dead and has a bizarre maternal/mad scientist complex?_ "Oh, she's just making sure I remember the mission is of utmost importance. That's her job."

Gunny nodded knowingly. "So if it's a _Normandy-_class frigate, it has the IES stealth system as well as the Tantalus drive core? I'm assuming it's around the same size as the _Normandy_ was."

"The SR-2 is bigger," came a voice from behind her. Joker, looking slightly sheepish, was followed by his father, both clutching beers. "Hence why I didn't land it in the yard."

Gunny tilted her head, a look of comprehension spreading across her face. "So much bigger that you wouldn't be able to escape the planet's gravity well..." Her mouth made a perfect O to match her wide eyes. "How _much_ bigger are we talking? Because the _Normandy _was a decent-sized frigate."

"384 meters," her brother answered, settling himself in the chair next to Clementine, stretching his legs out gingerly. She wanted to touch his hand, to reassure him, to make sure he wasn't in too much pain, but she played with her straw instead. Joke rubbed at his knee and shot his sister a smirk. "Vertical-oriented Tantalus drive core with four anti-proton thrusters. GUARDIAN lasers, javelin missiles and a Thanix."

Across from them, Gunny was rooted to her chair, looking as if Christmas had come early. "I _have_ to see it," she said breathlessly, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture.

Clementine and Joker looked at each other, and she noted the way his mouth twitched at the corners. His slight nod would have been imperceptible to a stranger, but she had watched him fly enough times to know the subtleties of his body language.

"I don't see why not," the commander said, giving Gunny a radiant smile.

The girl exploded out of her chair and threw her arms around Clementine's neck. "Oh thank you, thank you!"

Clementine hugged her back with the arm not holding a drink and laughed. "Of course! Although your brother will have to be your tour guide - he knows much more about the ship than I do."

Gunny disengaged her arms from around Clementine and settled back into her chair, beaming. Louis moved to sit next to Marin, looking content. A small crowd had gathered at the fringes of their circle; miscellaneous cousins who looked too shy to introduce themselves. She smiled warmly at the youngest, a boy no older than four with white-blonde hair and earnest brown eyes.

"Go on, Dax," Louis said, waving the boy forward. "Say hello."

"_Bonjour,_" he whispered, staring at his feet. Clementine gave him a warm smile, holding out her hand for Dax to shake it.

"_Bonjour_ _monsieur. Ne soyez pas timide."_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Louis and Marin look at each other, eyes wide. _Ah, Gunny, you didn't tell them anything about me, did you. _Dax took her hand timidly before reaching out to hug her waist. She smiled down at the boy and ruffled his fair hair before lifting him into her lap. "See! I knew you were brave."

Dax gave her a radiant smile. "Not as brave as you."

Clementine pretended to gasp. "_Non?" _She tickled his side and pointed at Joker. "I guess I'm brave. But I'm not as brave as Jeff, oh no. He's not afraid of anything. Not even volcanoes!" She caught Joker's gaze and smiled. The pilot was studying her with a look on his face she couldn't place. On her lap, Dax giggled.

"Jeff? Brave?" Gunny gave her brother a wry smile. "Coming from the boy who still has his stuffed animals packed away in storage."

Joker scowled at her and Clementine hastily covered her mouth with her hand. Louis, sensing a potential spat, stood up and checked his watch.

"Dinner should be almost ready. Shall we eat?"

Dinner was a casual, relaxing affair. A long table had been set in the yard under a white canopy strung with more lights. Joker sat next to her, chatting occasionally with his uncle. Gunny was on her other side, talking a mile a minute. There had been brief introductions as all the guests sat down. Clementine was secretly glad she was good with names. Louis had three brothers and a sister, all of whom were married with multiple children. Joker was the oldest, but not by much; his cousin - Roland was his name, she was pretty sure - sat across from them, occasionally shooting Clementine increasingly more awkward questions.

"I was pretty fond of Hahne-Kedar armor myself," Roland drawled, leaning back in his chair and staring at the commander. "There was a lieutenant in my unit - cute little thing, looked a lot like you. Spent almost an entire year's pay on a set of Kassa-made armor. None of us guys were complaining though. She certainly made sure it was a snug fit."

Next to her, Joker tensed, and she could hear him grinding his teeth. Under the table she grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his and touching the surface of his mind, giving him soft reassurance. He turned to look at her, eyes almost hidden under the shadow of his hat. Leaning towards her and lifting the bill, he whispered quietly, "What half the table doesn't know is he was CAT-6'd. Told his parents he got a medical discharge after an incident with a rogue grenade." His lips barely brushed her ear, and she felt a shiver slide down her spine. "They were on a peace-keeping mission on some dirt ball of a planet and he and his unit got drunk and began threatening the bartender. Let's just say it was...messy."

She smiled sweetly as Joker leaned back in his chair, looking contrite. "N7 operatives receive their own custom armor," she said. Hand still entwined with Joker's, she felt the soft bubble of his amusement. "I had a set of Hahne-Kedar when I was going through ICT. It was ok, up to a point. Fortunately, I made it out of the mouth of that maw. Unfortunately, I had to replace my armor afterward."

Joker snorted into his glass and Gunny's shoulders shook. Roland looked as if he had swallowed something unpleasant, and resumed eating his filet.

After dessert had been served (a fantastic lemon and lavender sorbet that Clementine decided was her new favorite), Louis stood up at the head of the table and cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for coming to support Marin and I on the eve of our wedding." He gazed down lovingly at his fiancé. "Many of you know she and I met while working on a project together. I was the lowly architect who spent too much time in front of a projection screen, drawing buildings. She was the beautiful, intelligent interior designer chosen to head the creative side of the project. From day one, I was enamored by her ability to stand up and take charge. Even with five junior designers working under her, she still was in the office or at the build site every day, making sure the project was progressing smoothly. It took me almost six months to work up the courage to ask her out for coffee, and before I even got the chance, she asked _me_ if I wanted to get lunch." He chuckled at the memory before continuing. "Almost seven years later, and here we are. I am lucky enough to have both my children here to celebrate alongside us -" he nodded toward Gunny and Joker, eyes twinkling. "Which is a miracle in and of itself. Getting Jeff away from flying is nearly impossible." Several at the table laughed lightly. Clementine turned and gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand.

"And so, I'd like to give a toast - to happiness, love, and family." Louis raised his glass and the table followed suit. Joker clinked his drink against hers, watching her over the rim with intent eyes. She felt her stomach twist pleasantly as color rose in her cheeks.

"Clementine," Gunny interjected, oblivious to the silent exchange between the commander and her brother. "The boys are going to play cards and drink beer and scratch themselves." She gave a long-suffering sigh and flicked a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder. "As fun as that sounds, I would really love to see these videos of you riding."

In their brief messages back and forth, Clementine had casually mentioned being excited to see farmland and pastures once again. Naturally, the conversation had led to childhoods and hobbies. Gunny had taken riding lessons as a small child before finding a penchant for flying instead.

"Oh, twist my arm," she replied sarcastically, standing and stretching. Dax came sprinting up to her, having escaped from the other end of the table and his parents, the front of his shirt covered in sorbet. She picked him up and swung him around, making him squeal. "But I'll only come if Dax can."

Gunny flicked the bill of Joker's hat as he stood. "We can go in the living room and you can hook your omnitool up to the projector. I'll make hot chocolate!"

"Hot chocolate!" Dax parroted, burying his face in Clementine's shoulder. Gunny pinched the little boy's cheek before skipping into the house, humming.

"Does your family know how good you are at Skyllian Five?" she asked her pilot, hefting Dax up higher on her hip and giving Joker a wry smile.

"Considering the last time I played with most of them I was sixteen?" he replied, laying a tentative hand on her hip. "Probably not. But that can be our little secret."

"Go get 'em, tiger," she said, standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. Dax giggled as they pressed him between them, pushing Joker's face away with a sticky hand. He grabbed the boy's fingers and pretended to bite at them.

"Smells like dessert!" he quipped, and Dax squealed again. Penelope, the little boy's mother, wandered over, a wide smile on her face.

"If he's bothering you, just let me know," the woman said, smoothing her son's fair hair away from his sticky face.

Clementine giggled and poked Joker in the shoulder. "Oh, I can handle Jeff."

Penelope laughed and squeezed her nephew's shoulder. "I _like_ her."

In the living room, the glass doors were pushed back to let in the autumn air. Clementine could see the planet's moon rising in the south, taking up almost the entire sky with its vibrance. Gunny was sprawled on an over-sized sofa, legs dangling over the armrest. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace and a few lit candles throwing shadows against the ceiling. The commander took a moment to commit the scene to her memory; a warm, cozy feeling bubbling up in her chest at the utter bliss. In her arms, Dax squirmed to be let down so he could play with the model ships spread haphazard across the floor.

"This is nice," she commented, sprawling opposite of Gunny and kicking her boots off. "It's been a long time since I felt like a normal human being."

The younger girl fiddled with a remote, auburn hair spread out underneath her. "My dad likes having Jeff home. It's been years."

"Do you know why he never came and visited?"

She propped herself up on one elbow and fixed the commander with a stare. "He's _always_ been married to flying. Left for the the Academy as soon as he could and never looked back." A shadow of a memory passed across her face. "I think there was too much...pain...here. At home, I mean. Tiptree. He was never a normal kid, because of his Vrolick's. I think being cooped up in bed for so many years both at home and in the hospital...he was ready for something different. He used to write a bit, when he enlisted. And more when he was slated as the _Normandy's _pilot. At least, for a while."

A timer sounded from somewhere in the kitchen, and she vaulted off the couch to shut it off. Clementine worried her bottom lip. _At least, for a while_ sounded a lot like _before you died._

* * *

><p>"God damnit. I fold."<p>

Roland slapped his hand of cards down on the table and took a swig from his beer bottle. They were three rounds in and Joker had already cleaned house, winning spectacularly, much to the dismay of his father, uncle and cousin.

Guiles, his father's oldest brother, gave his son a rueful look. "I thought you used to play this with the guys in your unit, Ro."

Roland scowled. "I did. And _always_ won. I'm convinced Jeff is cheating."

Joker snorted and rolled his eyes. Even when they were kids, Roland had been the sorest of losers, running straight to his mother whenever something didn't go his way. "I played with a quarian, a turian, a krogan, an asshole navigator and Shepard on a regular basis," he said, raking in his winnings. "Have you ever played Skyllian Five against a quarian? Best poker face in the galaxy."

Louis and Guiles snickered into their beers. Roland's younger brother, Marc, shook his head.

"So Shepard knows how to play Skyllian Five?" Roland asked. "She seems a little too sweet and innocent for card games."

Joker gave Roland an annoyed look. "Shepard routinely beats _me_ at Skyllian Five."

His cousin sprawled in his chair, two fingers hooked around the neck of his beer bottle. "Commander Shepard." His mouth twisted around her name, and Joker felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "So, _Jeffey_. How did you end up bagging the most dangerous woman in the galaxy?"

_I'm still not sure of that myself,_ he thought."I don't know what you mean by 'bagging'. Shepard has always been a good friend." He gathered the cards in his hands and began to shuffle.

"Oh. So she's fair game?"

He _almost_ lost control of the cards, but caught himself at last minute before their game of Skyllian Five turned into fifty-two pickup. Handing the shuffled deck to Marc, he took a swig of his beer and fixed his gaze on Roland. "I didn't say that, did I?"

Guiles cleared his throat and threw a handful of chips in the middle of the table. "New hand. Who's in?"

They played their way through several more games before deciding to retire. Roland wisely did not bring up Shepard again. Joker stretched lazily as he shuffled into the house, enjoying the calm, blissful feeling that had settled in his chest. On the couch in the living room, Gunny was curled up at one end, head resting on Clementine's legs. His commander was sitting up, her head lolling to the side, Dax nestled up against her, his face still dirty from dessert. They were all sound asleep. A vid was playing in the background, one Joker recognized as a clip Clementine had showed him up in her quarters.

"I won't say anything if you just so happened to take a picture," said his father quietly from behind him. Joker smiled. He raised his omnitool and snapped a photo before bending down next to Clementine, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Long eyelashes fluttered as he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"Hey, time for bed," he said, watching as her disparate eyes blinked open and focused on him. Her freckled cheeks were slightly flushed from sleep, and he ran a thumb along the side of her face.

"Whossat? Jeff?" Her lips spread in a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry. I fell asl-" Her sentence was cut off by a yawn.

"Come on, _ma petite_. Let's go to bed."

His father was waking Gunny, who rubbed her eyes and groaned. Clementine stifled another yawn and stood, careful not to jostle Dax.

"I'll take him," Louis offered. Clementine transferred the boy into his arms gently. "Penelope and Marin are downstairs watching a vid."

They bid his father and Gunny a good night and made their way to the bedroom. Moonlight shone softly through the windows, illuminating the room in a ghostly glow. Clementine shuffled over to the bed and flopped down with a sigh.

"Are you going to sleep in that?" he asked, pulling her socks off and pressing his thumb along the arch of her feet, eliciting a delicious moan from her prone form.

"If you keep doing that, yes. I'll fall asleep right here and you'll have to kip in the bathtub."

He chuckled and slid his hands up her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. She giggled and pretended to swat at him. He helped lift her sweater over her head, deftly untucking her undershirt from the waistband of her jeans and pulling that off too. Her lacy white bra followed, which he caught in midair and let fall to the floor.

"I don't want to dig through my bag for pj's," she complained, shimmying her jeans off and tossing them at his head.

"Ah, but I have just the thing!" His seabag was nearly empty - he owned barely any civilian clothing. He pulled out a worn flight academy t-shirt and tossed it to her. It landed on her head. She smiled and pulled it on, crawling to the head of the bed and sliding under the covers. Joker deftly slipped out of his jeans and shirt. Clad in his boxers and undershirt, he placed his hat on the nightstand and slid in next to her.

"I haven't been this relaxed in...a very long time," she whispered, her hand rubbing lazy circles over his shoulders and chest, moving up to the side and back of his neck. Her fingers found the chain of his dog tags and she frowned. He froze. "Jeff?" Before he could respond, she pulled the chain from under the fabric of his shirt and cupped it in her hand.

Standard issue Alliance dog tags were the usual silver embedded with a biometric microchip. His full name, serial number, blood type and religion were stamped on one of the metallic tags. Special forces ID tags were matte black, the blank back striped with the appropriate color of the branch. Clementine's eyes grew wide as she ran a thumb over the N7 logo.

"_How_?"

He felt the heat rise in his face. For weeks he had been trying to find the time to tell her he had her old tags. He closed his fist around her hand and held it against his chest.

"When Cerberus first approached me as your pilot, I thought it was some sick joke," he whispered. "They kept telling me I would be able to fly - fly a ship better than the _Normandy_." He took a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezed his eyes shut against the emotion. "One day I'm sitting at the bar, curled around a bottle of gin, when a woman comes up next to me and starts in with the usual story. I kindly told her to fuck off, which she did, but not before tossing me a pair of dog tags.

'We're bringing her back, Mr. Moreau', she said, and that was that. I packed my bags and took off the next day."

With his free hand, he slid the tie from her ponytail and let her mess of curls spread across the pillows. "She gave me both. The second one is in the pocket of the uniform I was wearing when the _Normandy _went down."

She stared at his hand clutched around hers and a tear slid down her cheek. He frowned.

"Clem. Don't cry." He wiped her cheek with a thumb and kissed her softly. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. And given them back to you."

Clementine shook her head. "No. I'm not mad. Not at all." She gave him a watery smile. "I just...I didn't know you _cared_. You know? Before."

He pulled her closer against his chest and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the peony-lavender scent. "I always cared, Clem. But between frat regs and Kaiden and being crippled...well. I'm not exactly a catch, especially for someone like you."

She twisted out of his grasp to clutch both sides of his face. "How many times are we going to do this you dear, sweet man?" The room was dark, and the blue nimbus of her biotics flickered eerily against the white sheets. He felt the familiar warm bath sensation, closing his eyes as her lips found his. Half-formed thoughts flickered in his mind but they were too quick for him to place. Her mouth was greedy, fitting against every move he reciprocated with until they were both breathless.

"I think I wanted you from the moment I stepped onto your bridge," she murmured against his lips. "I always told myself, maybe in another life, somewhere without regs and the Alliance breathing down our necks. And here we are."

"Here we are," he replied, burying his hands in her hair and sighing. She carefully slid one of her legs over his hips.

"If this is a dream," she said against his shoulder, "don't wake me up."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>: I decided, since this just kept getting longer and longer, to split it up into two separate chapters. Next part should be finished in the next few days, then on to the Collector base!


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